Forced Hand
by KatPee81
Summary: How differently would the story have turned out if Katniss and Peeta had been forced to carry out their wedding plans before the Quarter Quell? Story picks up after the Victory Tour, but before the Quell is announced.
1. Chapter 1

There isn't a word strong enough to express my loathing for this train. Whenever I board, it's in anticipation of something horrible. The first time, I was being sent to my death. When I came back alive, I was sent around the country to rub it in the faces of the families of those who didn't. This time trumps the first two by a wide margin.

When I suggested the public marriage proposal, I thought Peeta and I would have a few years to worm our way out of it. Maybe stage a bad breakup or something. Or at the very least, we'd just have to put on the pretense of being happily married during our yearly trip to the Capitol while mentoring our tributes for the Games. I never imagined Snow would be in such a hurry to throw a televised wedding for all of Panem to witness. Who forces two seventeen-year-olds to get married?

A dictator who enforces his power by making children fight to the death. That's who.

But what's the point? The whole purpose of continuing the stupid song and dance is to calm the unrest in the districts—unrest that I'd inadvertently inspired in the arena. But the fact is the people were fed up with the Capitol long before I whipped out those stupid berries. They're so itching for revolution that it doesn't matter what Peeta and I say or do at this point. It's not like they're going to say, "_Oh, what a beautiful wedding. They really are in love. Well, never mind the uprising, then. Let's get back to work_."

Now they're more restless than ever.

Maybe the purpose of the wedding is to entertain the spoiled citizens of the Capitol. Maybe Snow is trying to humiliate me. Maybe he's trying to show me who's in charge. Maybe all of the above. I don't know. I've given up trying to figure out his motives.

The day began with a visit from my prep team. A fitting start for such a dreaded endeavor. Because having all the hair on my body yanked out by the roots can't wait until I get to the Capitol—of course not—because the camera crews were there to film me getting onto the train. Only in the Capitol do they consider stepping onto a train newsworthy, and heaven forbid I should look like I come from District Twelve.

To make it worse, I got to listen to my prep team prattle on about how they love weddings, and how beautiful I'm going to look by the time they get through. I can usually tolerate them—they're not very bright after all, and they mean well—but today I just wasn't in the mood. I did my best to tune them out, and outright ignored them whenever they spoke to me. They just chalked up my behavior to pre-wedding jitters. Yeah, I guess you can call it that.

As soon as I could politely break away from the crowd, I feigned a headache and came straight to my compartment. I've been in here for the majority of the trip, resisting the urge to break things. Peeta checks on me every now and then, and my mother and Prim bring me food, but I'm not hungry. They've all been gracious enough to respect my wishes to be left alone.

Our families, of course, were invited. Peeta's mother didn't come. His father said it's because they couldn't afford to close the bakery for three days but that's an obvious lie. I suspect the real reason has something to do with me—she never did like me—but I don't really care. Even Peeta agrees that the last thing we need is that insufferable witch making things worse. If that's even possible.

Gale, who is thought to be my cousin, also declined the invite. He's stopped talking to me.

Dusk has fallen when the train has to stop for fuel, so I take advantage of the opportunity to get some fresh air, letting my feet carry me as far as they will. It's not like the train can leave without me—it's my wedding after all—and I don't much care if it does.

It isn't long before I am alerted to the sound of footsteps close behind. I turn and am about to lash out at the invader of my privacy, when I realize it's Peeta. Given the circumstances, you'd think he'd be the last person I'd want to see, but when he opens his arms, I can't help but fling myself into them. And as always, I find comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

"This is all my fault," Peeta says. "I should have never started the star-crossed lover thing."

Well, he has a point. It was his declaration of love for me on live television that led the Gamemakers to change the rules, which led me to go looking for him. If I'd just left Peeta to the blood poisoning that was taking over his body, it would have come down to Cato and me. One of us would have simply killed the other and gone home.

Not that I regret saving Peeta at all.

"You did it to save my life," I tell him. "And then I turned around and played the very same card to save yours. How could we have known they were going to toss the rules back and forth?"

"It's the Capitol," he says. "We should have seen it coming."

I push out of his arms. "I'm scared, Peeta," I blurt out. "This whole thing smacks of forced prostitution." Peeta's eyes widen at my choice of words, but that's exactly what it is. "Because I just know Snow is going to insist that we have children. And then he's going to rig the reapings as soon as they turn twelve. The reapings are the reason I never wanted to get married in the first place. Not to you, not to Gale, not to anyone. Ever." My eyes sting as I continue. "If I didn't have my mother and Prim to think about, I'd take my own life to keep it all from happening."

Peeta pulls me back into his arms, kisses the top of my head. "I'll never let you do that. I'll never let any of that happen. We'll figure this out."

"How?" I ask. How can he say that when we're on our way to get married because Snow is making us?

"I don't know," he admits. "But we will."

And even though he doesn't have an answer, I know what he says is true. Just like in the arena, we're in this together. We can face this.

We stand there holding each other for a long time, until the silence is broken by the whistle of the train, signaling it's ready to depart.

"Don't worry," Peeta says. "The conductor knows we're out here. Worst that will happen is Effie will be mad about being thrown off schedule."

I roll my eyes. "Let her be mad." I couldn't care less about Effie's stupid schedule. I'm in no hurry to get to the Capitol.

"Listen, Katniss." Peeta lifts my chin so that I meet his eyes. "This isn't why I followed you out here, but I think we should talk while we have some privacy. This might be our last chance."

Very true. We never know when we're being bugged. Even in our own homes we have to watch what we say.

"Fire away," I say tiredly.

"And we don't have time to beat around the bush, so I'm going to just come out with it."

"What is it?" I ask impatiently.

He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Do you love Gale? Be brutally honest. I can take it."

"What?" Why is he asking me this? "It doesn't matter, does it? I couldn't be with him now if I wanted to."

"I think it matters," says Peeta. "I know you're not marrying me by choice, and you know this isn't how I wanted us to end up together, but like it or not, here we are. I want to know whether we have anything going for us, or if your heart truly is with someone else. We have to face this one way or another, and the best way to start is to have everything on the table."

That's a good point. We learned on the Victory Tour the consequences that can come of keeping things from each other.

"I care about him," I say. "He's my best friend—I mean, he was—and it kills me that I'm hurting him like this."

Peeta nods. "And how do you feel about me? Where do I stand?"

"I care about you too," I tell him. "A lot."

"Do you think you could ever love me?" he asks. "I just want to know what kind of future I'm looking at."

He does have a right to ask, and when he puts it that way, I get a glimpse of what this arranged marriage is like on his side. While having my choices taken away is bad, at least the person I'm being legally bound to is someone who loves me unconditionally and would sacrifice his own happiness in favor of mine. Peeta, on the other hand, fears he's facing a loveless marriage.

Could I ever love Peeta Mellark? The compassionate boy who once took a beating to feed me? Who thought nothing of his own life in the arena last year? In whose arms I seek refuge from the terrors that descend at night?

At least this is an easy question to answer.

"I could," I tell him. "Easily."

"Well then," Peeta places a hand on my cheek. "If you'll let me, I'll keep trying."

A new realization hits me. If I accept Peeta's love, it's a small victory over Snow. If I reject it, Snow wins. "I'll let you," I say.

He leans in and kisses my forehead.

"There you are," yells a voice, easily recognizable by the drunken slur, from somewhere nearby. I look around and see the approaching silhouette of Haymitch. "You kids about ready? Miss Manners is starting to become real unpleasant."

"We're coming." Peeta takes my hand and we head back to the train.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm a little friendlier when we get back. Peeta and I go to the parlor car, where our families are gathered. We receive very loaded looks from Peeta's brothers, who are undoubtedly dying of curiousity about where we've been and what we've been up to that merited a delay. I'm sure they have their own theory, and that it's the presence of Prim that is keeping them from laying a verbal assault on us.

My mother and the baker, who knew each other as children, regale us with tales of their old school days.

"I can't believe Mr. Grey is still around," my mother says of Prim's math teacher. "He was getting along in years when we were in school."

"He must be about a hundred and fifty by now," says Peeta's oldest brother.

"And blind as a bat," Peeta says. "Katniss, do you remember the time Zeke hung his jacket on the curtain rod?"

"Yes." I laugh at the memory. "Mr. Grey thought Zeke was standing on the radiator, because it's right under the window. He spent all of class yelling at him to come down."

It feels good to laugh and talk about something other than the wedding. But fatigue eventually gets the better of me, and I have to say good night. Peeta doesn't make any excuses, he just takes my hand and comes with me. His brothers clear their throats emphatically as we pass by, earning each of them a smack on the back of the head from Peeta. I'm sure he can expect a healthy ribbing from them in the morning.

* * *

Despite my fatigue, sleep evades me. I can't seem to turn my mind off. Things are going to be different in just two days.

With Peeta and me getting married, the Capitol is taking back my house in the Victor's Village, which will put my mother and Prim back in the Seam. Having gotten used to all the modern conveniences that the mansion offers, like hot running water, and a telephone, they were a little disappointed by this news. I promised to have a new house built for them that has all these things. Only not quite so large.

I will be living with Peeta, but we're going to be more like roommates than a married couple. Roommates who sleep in the same bed. I have to admit, it will be nice having him there at night. I recall something he said earlier. "_I want to know whether we have anything going for us..._" Shielding each other from the nightmares ought to count for something, right?

I know Peeta well enough to know that, just because we'll be married, he won't be expecting physical intimacy. That's a step he won't want to take unless I make a declaration of love. That could take a while.

But just sleeping with someone the way Peeta and I do, regardless of whether it leads to anything, is a very intimate thing to do. How long did we spend huddled in that cave? A week? During that time, his body became very familiar and comforting.

But even now as I lie here next to him—head resting on his shoulder, legs tangled, fingers intertwined, feeling his warm breath breeze my face—I can't help but wonder what it would be like to feel those steady hands caress my bare skin. Feel his warm lips kiss me in ways that the cameras don't allow...

It would be easy, so easy, to wake him with a kiss right now. What would that lead to? We are engaged, after all...

But then I think of the thinness of the wall that separates my compartment from Effie Trinket's and it's easy to put those thoughts to rest.

I wonder if this ever goes through Peeta's mind when we're together like this.

Well anyway, I have no intention of bringing children into this world if I can help it, and there's only one surefire way of preventing that.

Ugh! This is why I don't want to get married.

Then again, there are very effective methods of birth control...

I sigh. My mind is tired. Peeta and I should have talked about this. But we kind of ignored everything having to do with the wedding, leaving all the planning up to Effie and Haymitch, until we had to jump in with both feet. Tonight was the first time we've actually discussed anything regarding our...marriage.

"I love you," Peeta says hoarsely. At first, I'm startled, thinking he's trying to put me on the spot, until I realize he's fast asleep. I have to admit, it's nice to hear. I reach up and kiss him on the cheek. Then, snuggling in closer to him, I eventually find sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

We arrive in the Capitol late the next morning, and the first item on the agenda is dancing lessons.

"But we already know how to dance," I protest. "Remember the Victory Tour?"

"That was different," Effie says. "You need to learn how to dance for a wedding."

I didn't realize there was a difference. Back home, a party is a party. Same music, same dancing. I roll my eyes in Peeta's direction. He gives my hand an empathetic squeeze. Unfortunately, I have to play nice, because—_sigh—_we're on camera.

After dance lessons is the rehearsal, which thankfully, the reporters didn't stick around for since the real thing is happening tomorrow. We learn where we're supposed to stand, what we're supposed to say and when. Everything is going smoothly. That is, until the officiant asks for rings.

"What do you mean you don't have any rings?" This revelation surprises Effie.

"We don't do that in Twelve," Peeta says, a little defensively.

"We can just do without," I say. "It's no big deal." Why is Effie is making an issue of it?

"Nonsense," Effie says. "You're going to be on television. You have to have rings." Next thing I know, she's calling for a car to take us to a jewelry store. Will this nightmare ever end?

I turn to Haymitch. "Is she serious?" Effie has been given free rein with the wedding planning, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Going out of my way for a piece of jewelry that could feed half the starving people of District Twelve is a bit much.

This where I expect Haymitch to side with Effie. Tell me it would be less painful to slog through the next couple of days and I'd be home soon. But to my surprise, it's Effie he tries to reason with.

"We don't have time for that," he says. "They have an interview to get ready for. Making a side trip to a jewelry store for such a trifle will cut into the schedule."

Well, Haymitch—or I should say the mention of the s word—did it, and after some discussion, they were able to come to a compromise. Peeta and I will borrow suitable substitutes from Effie's collection.

Finally, there is the interview with Caesar Flickerman. I conjure up my perkiest smile and take the stage on Peeta's arm.

The show begins with a video recap of our romance, starting with Peeta's on-air confession. Then it goes into clips from the Games—Peeta fighting off Cato to protect me, me shouting his name after the rule change, going to look for him, nursing him back to health. When they show me pounding on the glass as Peeta is being operated on, I'm overwhelmed as I remember my fear of losing him. Then there's the Victory Tour. Kissing. More kissing. More kissing. Is that all we ever did? Finally, the video ends with Peeta's proposal.

"Does that not just move you to tears?" Caesar, who is wearing a bright pink suit and sporting a lavender pompadour, asks the audience. They respond with a collective sigh.

Caesar then turns to us. "I understand you're getting married in the traditional Capitol fashion." We both nod. "How does that differ from a wedding back home?"

"It's very different, Caesar," Peeta says. "There are no similarities."

"Not true," I interject. "There's the white dress."

"Yes, the white dress," Peeta allows. "But that's where the similarities stop."

And then we dive into a contrast between a typical wedding here, and one back home.

Getting married in District Twelve is a simple affair. The bride does wear a white dress, but it isn't made of the delicate fabric like the one Cinna made for me, and it's usually rented. The groom dresses nicely, but nothing like the black tuxedo we'll see Peeta in tomorrow.

It doesn't require months of planning like this one did. There are no huge decisions to be made like what kind of flowers, or colors, or decorations. We don't send out invitations on fancy stationery. We don't have bridesmaids or groomsmen—roles that Prim and Peeta's brothers will fill tomorrow. All we do is fill out legal paperwork at the Justice Building, receive a housing assignment, and have friends over. They sing our traditional wedding song as the bride and groom walk across the threshold, and everybody eats.

But the most important part of the ceremony comes after everybody goes home. It's a ritual called a toasting, where the couple lights their first fire, and toasts some bread to share. It isn't until the toasting that the couple truly feels like husband and wife.

We spend the next half hour talking about the wedding, and how our families are liking the Capitol. The cameras show a close up of Prim sitting in the audience, so that they can meet the sister I volunteered for. She gives a shy smile and waves timidly, but recoils slightly. She doesn't like the spotlight any more than I do.

After what seems like forever, the interview ends and I can finally stop simpering like a fool.


	5. Chapter 5

I never thought I'd be so happy to be at the Training Center, but after such a busy day, the relative quiet of our old apartment is delectable.

I take Prim up to the roof. She is amazed by the view, but is careful to stand back from the railing.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about falling," I tell her. "Watch." I find a stone from the garden and toss it at the force field. She gasps as it bounces back. "I'm sure there's no need to explain why that's there."

"It's not hard to figure out," she says.

I stare out at the cityscape, brightly lit at night. In the distance, I can see the President's Mansion where, in less than twenty-four hours, I will become Peeta's wife. How perverse is that? Being coerced into marriage, in a ceremony too extravagant for my taste, at the house of the very person from whom I'm trying to protect my family.

Prim takes notice of my forlorn expression. "Katniss, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, little duck," I lie. "Just nervous about tomorrow." It's a true enough answer.

"You don't have anything to be nervous about," she says. "You and Peeta love each other."

I can't help smiling. Such a thirteen-year-old thing to say. "And what makes you so sure?" I only ask because I'm curious about her thirteen-year-old answer.

"Katniss, I know that the way things have happened between you two has left you confused, but who knows you better than me? You didn't have to save his life in the arena, you know. You were doing just fine without him."

"I know, but I did it because I didn't want to be an outcast if I made it home," I say. "That's not love, that's selfishness."

"You think you were being selfish?" she says incredulously. "Katniss, you're being way too hard on yourself. You didn't make some half-hearted attempt to care for him, you went out of your way. And I'm not just talking about the obvious stuff like risking your life to get his medicine. I'm talking about the little things. Like..." She takes a moment to think. "Like when you made that soup."

"The soup?"

"Yeah, the soup," she says. "Remember how he kept turning down that meat? What was it called? Groosling? You could have just left it out altogether. That would have been the easy thing to do. But you didn't. You made the extra effort to mince it into something edible for him, so that his body would get as much nourishment as it could."

"Well, I did care," I say. " Just like I do now."

"And I suppose you were staring at him because you cared, too. When you were watching him sketch the pictures for the plant book? And all those times at school? Didn't think I noticed, did you?"

I am stunned into silence. Was I that obvious?

"You're in love with him."

Before I can argue the point, we hear the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later, Peeta appears in the doorway.

"Oh. Am I interrupting?"

"No, I was just showing Prim the force field," I reply.

"I'm going in now," Prim says. "It's freezing up here!" And then she's gone.

Peeta takes my hand and leads me to a bench in the garden. I curl up next to him, throwing my legs across his lap. He takes off his jacket and covers us both with it. Since the wind chimes are sure to drown out anything we say, now would be a good time to ask him something that has been preying on me since last night.

"Peeta, were you hoping to have children one day?" I keep my tone hushed, for good measure.

The question causes him to raise an eyebrow. There are so many implications in it.

"Because I don't want to," I clarify.

"I don't anymore," he says. "Maybe a year ago I would have, but after being reaped..." He pauses a moment. "You don't really think Snow will make us, do you?"

"I wouldn't put anything past him," I say. "Lately, I've been having nightmares about him having me artificially inseminated with your...your _seed_."

"Euh." Peeta shudders. Then his expression changes to a smirk. "Well, if it comes down to it, I know a better way." He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

"Oh, stop it!" I slap his chest, but his attempt to lighten the mood actually works. I can't help laughing in spite of myself.

"And about that," he continues, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I don't want you to think that just because we'll be married, I'm expecting to...I mean, I know you don't feel the same way I do, so..." he trails off, face turning as red as a cherry.

Gah! We can't even talk about sex without blushing. We are so not ready to be married.

"I know." I crane my neck and kiss him on the cheek before dozing off on his shoulder.


	6. Chapter 6

I wake the next morning, my head resting on Peeta's arm. I prop myself up on an elbow and watch as the sunlight that streams in through the window dances across his face, illuminating his endless eyelashes that are so blond they're usually invisible.

I remember the first time I noticed them. It was during the time I spent laid up after injuring my heel. We were working on the plant book together, and I was paying very close attention to the way his face contorted as he concentrated on each sketch. The way he moved his hands with each stroke of the paintbrush...

I shake my head as if to clear it. That's one of the points Prim used in her speech last night. She's so convinced I'm in love with Peeta.

And yet, as I watch him sleep peacefully beside me, I have to admit there is a certain sweetness in knowing I'll be waking up next to him every morning. Unable to help myself, I lean over and lay a kiss on his cheek. The gesture wakes him.

"Hey," I say, smiling.

He opens his eyes weakly and returns the smile. "Hey."

"I'm sorry I've been such a pain lately," I tell him. Actually, that's putting it mildly. There is a much stronger word for the way I've acted.

"You don't have to apologize," he says. His voice is heavy with sleep. "You've had every right."

"Well...yeah, I have," I allow. "But I know it hasn't made things any easier on you."

"Well, for better or worse, right?" Peeta replies, taking a line from the traditional Capitol vows we'll make to each other this afternoon.

Suddenly, there is a rapid knock at the door. "Katniss, dear!" Effie calls. "Time to get up! You have a big, big, big day ahead of you!"

"Bite me," I say under my breath. I throw a pillow in her direction. "I'll be in a better mood when we get home," I say to Peeta.

"Yeah, I agree," Peeta says. "Thank goodness we only have to be here a few more hours."

That's right. We're sleeping on the train tonight.

Peeta and I are taken in separate cars to the President's Mansion where we are placed in the hands of our prep teams. My mother and Prim are with me. Since they will be part of the wedding, they get to be fussed over too. I'm glad for the company. I'm such a bundle of nerves this morning, and their presence is the only thing keeping me from coming apart at the seams.

"Oh, Katniss, your sister is an absolute doll," squeals Octavia as she paints Prim's nails a pale shade of pink.

"Yes, I've always thought so," I say, barely keeping the stammer out of my voice. I smile at Prim, who is clearly enjoying herself.

"And your mother cleans up so nicely," says Venia as she applies makeup to my my mother's face. The look my mother gives suggests she doesn't know whether to take the comment as a compliment or an insult. But Venia is right. This is just about the prettiest I've ever seen my mother. They say she used to be quite beautiful.

When they leave, Cinna arrives to deliver our dresses. My knees are shaking so hard that it takes the collective effort of him, Prim, and my mother to help me into my diamond-encrusted gown. When I finally do manage to stagger into it, my mother and Cinna take me by either arm and lead me to a chair. I slump forward, burying my face in my hands.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't...

"Just relax," Prim says. "Breathe with me. Inhale...exhale..."

I focus on her face as she guides me through the exercises, and remember why I have to do this. For her. For my mother. For everybody I love.

I wonder how Peeta is holding up.

Peeta. The boy with the bread. My ally in the arena. My refuge from the nightmares. I think of him, and remember why I _can_ do this.

Slowly, I stand up.

"Are you all right?" Cinna asks. In answer, I give a resolute nod. He sets the headpiece, and my mother gets my shoes.

Before long, an attendant comes to escort us to the courtyard where Peeta and I will...I swallow hard.

We walk through a series of corridors, until we come to a foyer with a set of double doors. There, Effie and Haymitch are waiting for us.

I look out the window at the layout. A dozen rows of chairs—mostly occupied by complete strangers—are arranged on either side of a long aisle. At the end of the aisle stands an arched lattice adorned with all manner of flowers. Under the lattice, along with the officiant, stands Peeta. His brothers are up there with him, standing off to the side.

Effie lines us up in the order that we're to walk out. She gives the word, and two ushers pull the double doors open simultaneously.

"You first, Mrs. Everdeen," Effie says. When my mother is halfway down the aisle, Prim takes her cue.

"We're next, Sweetheart," Haymitch says, offering me his arm. "And smile. This is the happiest day of your life."

I put on the most dazzling smile I can muster. Effie gives the word, and Haymitch and I walk down the aisle.


	7. Chapter 7

The ceremony goes by in a blur. The feel of Peeta's steady hand in mine is the only thing keeping me focused. We recite the traditional vows, exchange rings—Effie's rings—and seal our union with a kiss. Then, we turn to face the crowd.

"I am pleased to present," the officiant announces, "Peeta Mellark, and his wife, Katniss Everdeen!" Getting to keep my name was one of the few bright spots in this whole mess.

The audience cheers as Peeta and I walk back down the aisle. The minute we're in the foyer, Effie whisks us away for an hour-long photo shoot.

By the time we finally do make it to the banquet room, we are completely famished. Hand in hand, we make our way to one of the many tables of food. Or we try to, but are stopped every few feet by some stranger offering their congratulations. It's Peeta's middle brother who comes to our rescue with a plate for each of us.

"This is some party," he says. "Were they expecting more people? There's no way all this food is going to be eaten."

"You have no idea." Peeta points to the table with the pretty flutes that contain the vomit-inducing liquid. "Stay away from that table."

A puzzled look crosses his brother's face. "Why?"

"Just trust me," Peeta replies.

"Oh-kay." His brother doesn't know what to make of the cryptic answer, but seems to heed Peeta's advice.

We are graciously polite to everybody who gets in our faces, but what I really want to do is find a place to hide until it's time to board the train. I don't even think it would be beneath me to huddle in a closet somewhere. But with the cameras rolling it's out of the question.

I should probably be grateful. For all we know these people sponsered us in the Games. In which case, we'll need them again for the tributes we'll be mentoring this summer, especially with it being the Quarter Quell. But I really can't stand these Capitol people. I just can't fathom how they can't see the Games for what they are.

Peeta and I find my mother and Prim on the dance floor, and the four of us break out into a line dance that is popular back home. The music, although lively enough, doesn't quite fit, but we don't care. Peeta's father and brothers spot us and join in, and even Haymitch bobs his head to the beat while cradling a drink. This small semblance of home lifts my spirits considerably. It's the most fun I've had all day.

The song ends, giving way to a slower melody. Peeta pulls me into his arms, and we sway back and forth to the music, not speaking. I look into his blue eyes, and suddenly find myself wanting to kiss him. But we've been kissing all day for the cameras, and if I do it now, Peeta will think it's just another act. So I resist the urge, and instead, I lay my head on his chest and shut my eyes. In response, he hugs me tighter and rests his chin on the top of my head. The sound of his heartbeat is soothing.

After a few minutes of this, I feel him lift his head. "Haymitch is coming."

I turn around to see our mentor sauntering toward us.

"So how are the newlyweds doing?" he asks.

"Fine," we both say, alarmed at the urgency in his voice.

"Can I interest both of you in a drink?"

Haymitch is offering us a drink. That's code for "We need to talk." We take him up on it and follow him to the bar.

"Listen up," he says in a hushed voice. He hams up the slur in his speech, making him sound drunker than he actually is. "I just got word that Snow's going to make a special announcement tonight."

"Any idea what it is?" Peeta asks.

"Something about the Quarter Quell," Haymitch says. "Probably the reading of the card. Now, that only dictates how the tributes will be chosen, but I find it very suspicious that Snow chose your wedding day to do it."

Now I'm even more anxious for the reception to end. We spend the next couple of hours acting as though nothing unusual has happened, but internally I'm dying to find out what Snow has up his sleeve.

After what seems like an eternity, Effie informs us that it's time to say goodnight, and Peeta and I make our rounds to people it would be an atrocity to miss. I especially make it appoint to see Cinna, even though I'll see him again in just two months. We get to the main entrance of the mansion, where the reporters want a shot of the newlyweds smiling and waving as we descend the steps. At the bottom is the car that will take us to the train station.

Peeta and I go straight to the parlor car and turn on the television. One by one, the others join us, undoubtedly wondering why we're watching a recap of the wedding, still garbed in our attire.

"What's going on?" Peeta's father asks.

"President's going to make an announcement," Haymitch says without ungluing his eyes from the screen.

Finally, Snow takes the stage, accompanied by a boy carrying a wooden box.

"As you know, this is a very special year in the Hunger Games," he says. "It is the seventy-fifth anniversary, which marks the Third Quarter Quell."

When the Games were first created, it was dictated that for every twenty-fifth anniversary, there would be a special twist to serve as a reminder of the Capitol's power. For the First Quarter Quell, the tributes were elected by the people of their districts. For the Second, twice as many tributes—two boys and two girls—were reaped.

Additionally, during the Quells, the arenas are more hellish than usual. I can't even begin to fathom how it can get any worse than dodging fireballs and fighting wolf-mutt versions of our fellow tributes. But Gamemakers have diabolical imaginations.

"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says Snow. The boy with the box steps forward and holds the lid open. President Snow pulls out a large envelope marked with the number seventy-five.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary," he reads, "as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

Someone turns off the television. All the eight of us can do is stare blankly at each other in stunned silence.

After an endless minute, Peeta is the first to speak. "All right, then." He takes my hand. "Come on, Katniss. Let's go get some sleep."


	8. Chapter 8

By the time we get back to our compartment the shock has worn off, and I begin to hyperventilate. Seeing that I've become hysterical, Peeta sits me down on the bed, and calls for an attendant to fetch my mother. He refuses to leave my side.

"He fixed that, Peeta," I say, between gasps for air. "I know he did. That wasn't the card that was originally there." It's a little too convenient that that very card happened to be drawn the year after I won. Had I not come home last year, District Twelve wouldn't have had a female victor, which would have made the Quell impossible.

Peeta puts his arms around me. "We still have two months. We'll get together with Haymitch and come up with a strategy to win."

A strategy to win. Only it won't be both of us. Not this time. I know what Peeta plans to do. He'll go into the arena with me—he'll volunteer if Haymitch is reaped—and sacrifice himself for me.

But Snow has plans of his own, and they don't exactly dovetail with Peeta's. He has no intention of me becoming Victor of Victors. He's had it in for me since I pulled out the berries, and he is going to personally see to it that I don't make it home this time.

But maybe it's better that I don't. Because in order for me to win, Peeta will have to die, and the thought of that sends a pang through me that cuts straight to my core. I mustn't let that happen. If either of us comes out alive, it's going to be him. That will be my mission this time around. To protect Peeta at all costs.

Minutes later, mother and Prim are in the room with a cup of chamomile tea. Prim guides me through the breathing exercises, just as she did before the wedding. Slowly, I begin to relax and they help me into my nightgown. Embarrassed for seeming weak, I beg them not to say anything to the others about my reaction.

Peeta changes into an undershirt and sweat pants and climbs into bed with me. Cocooned in his warmth, I easily drift off.

* * *

I feel Peeta shake my shoulder. "Katniss!" he says frantically. "We need to get out of here! Now!"

The second I open my eyes, the branches in the tree above us burst into flame, causing burning debris to rain down on us. I immediately know what's happening. Fireballs. Engineered by the Gamemakers to drive Peeta and me to face the girl from District One. Sapphire. The only other tribute left. Without hesitation, we gather our gear and make a run for it.

Every muscle in my body demands that I run faster, but I keep my hand firmly locked in Peeta's, afraid that if I let go, we'll become separated. I've sworn to protect him, and protect him I will.

Another fireball lands directly in our path, blocking our way. We double back, and seek out another route, covering our mouths and noses with our shirts in an attempt to shield them from the toxic smoke that threatens to suffocate us. It brings some relief, but not much, and there's nothing we can do about the stinging in our eyes. So we stumble almost blindly through the trees, looking for an escape.

Finally, we come upon a clear path, which is unquestionably where the Gamemakers want us to go. No doubt, Sapphire is headed in the same direction. We have no choice but to take it.

When we feel we're a safe enough distance from the flames and smoke, we allow ourselves to collapse to the ground. We're both on our hands and knees, heaving deep breaths of air. Completely vulnerable. If Sapphire were to come charging through the bushes, it would be an easy victory for her.

Suddenly, Peeta cries out in pain. I look his way to see a hairy red spider the size of a tea saucer crawling down his back. The venom of this muttation is said to kill its victim within five minutes. And it just bit Peeta!

I sweep it off his back with a stick, then stab it. I crawl back over to Peeta, who is now struggling to breathe. I lay his head in my lap and take his hand, which is shaking violently.

"I'm s-sorry, Katniss." I can tell that speaking has become difficult. "You...m-must...kill...Sssapphire. Go h-home."

"No, Peeta." I don't even bother to hold back tears as I plead. "No. I'm not leaving without you."

"P-please." I listen intently as he labors to tell me whatever it is he wants to say. "I love you."

And then his body goes limp.

"Peeta!" I scream. "No! Please, Peeta! Come back! Peeta!"

When he doesn't respond, the reality of my own failure sinks in. I couldn't protect him. Just like I couldn't protect Rue last year.

"Peeta!" I continue to yell, even though I know it's pointless. "Peeta!"

"Katniss, it's okay," says a disembodied voice close by. "I'm here." Somebody shakes my shoulder. "Wake up, Katniss."

I jerk awake, and take in my surroundings. It's dark. Probably after midnight. And I am on the train heading back to District Twelve. Peeta is right here with me. Not dead. Not dying. Here. Alive and well. With me. It was only a dream.

"Peeta!" I throw my arms around him as relief floods through me. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm here," he repeats. He kisses my forehead. "Try to go back to sleep."

"No," I protest. I don't want to go back to sleep. That nightmare was brutal. Losing Peeta struck closer to home than any horror I've experienced since the arena. And it brought to light something that I've been too blind to see myself.

I love Peeta Mellark.

I love him, and I'm going to die in the arena. Or maybe we both will. Either way, I only get two months to make up for the lifetime we no longer have together. An impossible feat, but I'm going to do my best. I'm going to love him with everything I have. So instead of settling down in the protective circle of his arms, I prop myself up and press my lips firmly to his.

The kiss starts out slow, but gradually becomes more heated. I pull Peeta closer to me so that there isn't an inch of space between us, snaking my hands along his body. He responds in kind, and for the moment, we forget our worries, and get lost in each other.


	9. Chapter 9

The atmosphere back in District Twelve is less than welcoming. Peacekeepers are everywhere, exercising their control by handing out the most extreme forms of punishment for the pettiest of crimes. Daring us to put a toe out of line. Most people keep to their own homes nowadays with the shudders drawn, afraid they might end up in the stocks for looking at a Peacekeeper the wrong way.

First chance I get, I talk to Haymitch about helping me keep Peeta alive, reasoning that since he saved me last year, we owe him this year. Reluctantly, Haymitch agrees. No doubt, Peeta has had a similar discussion with him requesting the opposite.

We decide that the best way to prepare for the Quell is to train like Careers. My mother puts us on a special diet, and we start each morning with strengthening exercises, followed by combat skills in the afternoons. We spend the evenings watching tapes of previous Games, learning what we can about the fifty-nine potential tributes we'll have to face, and I even learn that Peeta can be quite the sanctimonious jerk when he forces Haymitch into sobriety.

And that's how we spend the next two months, with Peeta and me becoming stronger and more adept, and Haymitch...staying sober.

Despite our rigorous training regimen, and our sore muscles, Peeta and I make time for each other, too. I still haven't verbally told him I love him. I know it's silly, but the words feel foreign coming from my mouth, I guess from so many years of closing myself off to that kind of love. But if actions speak, he must realize it's true.

Since my days are numbered, I also make it appoint to spend as much time with my mother and Prim as possible. It's during such a visit to the Seam that the unexpected happens. It's the last Sunday before Reaping Day. I'm in the backyard milking Lady when the approaching shadow of a human form causes me to jump. I look up, and there he is, standing over me.

"Gale!" My jaw practically lands on the ground. He'd written me off long before the wedding. Or so I thought.

"Hey, Catnip," he says ruefully.

My shock is quickly replaced by bitterness. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you...before you go," he says.

"Well, you see me," I say brusquely. I don't want to let on that I really am happy to see him.

He rolls his eyes. "Will you take a walk with me?"

I hesitate a moment. "Fine." I stand up, wipe my hands on my pants, and set off down the road with him.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he finally speaks. "So...how's married life?"

I let out a humorless chuckle. "It might be better if we weren't preparing to face death again."

"Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question," he says sheepishly. Our pace slows to a stop. "Listen, Katniss, I wanted to apologize for the way I've treated you."

"Thanks," is all I can think to say.

"It doesn't mean I don't think you sold yourself out," he clarifies. "But I know why you did it."

"Maybe I did sell myself out," I say, "but, I don't regret marrying Peeta now." At this point, what's to regret? "I love him."

A pained expression flits across Gale's face, but he quickly composes himself. "I know you do."

"Gale, I—"

He puts a finger to my lips. "And much as I hate to admit it, he's okay. And I know he's going to try to get you home."

"Yeah, that he is." And it's only going to make my job harder.

"Katniss, let him," Gale says, as though he can read my thoughts. And actually, he's always sort of been able to.

I let my gaze drop to the ground and kick a pebble. This isn't a promise I can make. Not with Snow working against it. And, even if I could, I don't think I'd want to make it. The thought of Peeta dying is unbearable. I cringe as I recall the nightmare I had after the announcement.

"Fine," he relents. "I know better than to try to reason with you. I'll just put my trust in Peeta. So..." He extends his hand toward me. "Are we friends again?"

I ignore his hand and throw my arms around him. "You'll take care of my family?" I ask.

"Until you come home," he says.

* * *

We don't even get a final goodbye on Reaping Day. After our names are drawn we are taken straight to the train station and practically shoved onto the train. The door slams shut behind us, and all we can do is watch as District Twelve disappears behind us forever.


	10. Chapter 10

Tomorrow we'll be launched into the arena. I've been lying awake for hours with my eyes shut, willing sleep to find me, but my mind is buzzing with the events of this week. Especially what happened at the interview.

Almost every tribute attacked President Snow, but Cinna is the one who nearly stole the show by putting me into a dress that turned me into a mockingjay when I twirled. Just egging on the rebellion. I understand the reason he did it, but no doubt he's signed his death warrant with his audacity. I can't help thinking he could have done so much more for the cause than making me a bird costume.

And the reason I say he _almost_ stole the show is because, once again, Peeta blew everything the others did right out of the water. Last year, he told the world he was in love with me. Tonight, he told them I was pregnant. After that it was nothing but raging pandemonium. The citizens of the Capitol can still be heard rioting in the streets below. I never knew they cared so much. But I feel certain they'll change their tune once the fighting begins.

This, by the way, was after Peeta and I, unbeknownst to each other, stuck it to the Gamemakers during our private sessions. But they've taken care of that offense. They gave us both an unprecedented score of twelve, thereby making us the target of every other tribute in the arena. If my goose wasn't cooked before, it definitely is now. The best I can hope to do is eliminate the rest of the playing field before Snow drops the ax on me.

Still, I'm not sorry about it.

I open my eyes and look over at my sleeping husband...

"Oh." I didn't realize he was awake. But sure enough, his blue eyes are staring right back at me. "You too, huh?"

"I only have so much time left to see your face," he says wistfully. "I don't want to pass up the opportunity."

I couldn't agree more. I reach up and run my fingers along his jaw.

"Katniss," he says. "I know what you're going to try to do."

"Well, don't try to talk me out of it," I say defiantly, "because it'll do no good."

"Please, Katniss," he begs. "Don't try to stop me from getting you home. It's what I want." He reaches up to brush the hair away from my forehead. "I'll never be able to go on living if you die."

"I can't let you do that," I say. "I can't just let you sacrifice yourself for me."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Peeta demands.

The words I've kept locked up inside of me come tumbling out, unbidden. "Because I love you."

Even here in the darkness, I can see the adoring smile spread across Peeta's face. "I've waited so long to hear you say that."

"I mean it," I say. "I love you, Peeta. And it would be the same way for me if you were to die. I would cease to function."

Like my mother did after the explosion claimed the life of my father. Like I did when Rue was killed. It took a great deal of effort to do so much as sit up. It was the opportunity to ally with Peeta that brought me back to life.

He pulls me in for a long kiss, and I completely melt. I spend the rest of the night concentrating on the feel of his gentle caress along my body, the taste of his mouth on mine, the way he smells, the sound of his voice as he whispers things only I am meant to hear. Drinking it all in. Committing it all to a memory I'll be able to draw strength from in my final moments.

We do eventually find sleep, but all too soon the sun rises, and Cinna and Portia come calling. It's very difficult to tear myself away from Peeta, but tributes, married or not, enter the arena alone.

"Whatever happens out there," he says before we part ways, "just know I wouldn't trade these last two months for anything."

"Neither would I," I reply.


	11. Chapter 11

_**I really struggled over writing this chapter, because I had no intention of changing the events that took place in the Quell. I had a hard time deciding whether it would be best to jump ahead to Mockingjay, or write through a bunch of stuff everybody knows about.**_

_**This chapter is what I came up with. There's a lot of summary going on. If it sucks, I apologize, but I thank you for taking the time to read it, and I promise the next chapter will be better.**_

* * *

The arena bends and roils around me. It takes everything I have to keep from collapsing to the ground. I need to find Peeta. Not that I'd be of much use to him in this state.

I reach up to touch my temple, still throbbing from where Johanna struck me. My left forearm is still gushing where she stabbed it.

Well, I can't exactly call her a traitor, can I? It's not like I didn't know something like this would happen eventually. This is the Hunger Games after all, and whatever alliances may form, everybody is ultimately in it for themselves. Because the alternative means your own death. Self-defense. It's always self-defense.

Which is exactly why Peeta and I didn't want allies in the first place. But Haymitch was so damn insistent and whether we liked it or not, we got them.

But why didn't Johanna just kill me? She had me pinned to the ground. She could have slit my throat as easily as stab my arm. It's the same type of bizarre behavior Finnick displayed when he saved Peeta's life. Twice. First, when he restarted his heart, and then when he blocked that dagger with his thigh.

Oh, yeah. And Mags, when she dove into that deadly fog so that Finnick could carry Peeta instead of her?

Something doesn't add up.

But whatever transpired over the last few days, the alliance is now clearly severed. Finnick is probably still in league with Johanna. And Beetee...I don't know. I can barely form a coherent thought to work it out.

Where is Peeta?

Head spinning, I stagger drunkenly until I reach the edge of the trees. On my hands and knees, I make my way up the hill and eventually find Beetee, unconscious on the ground, gripping a knife. His wire is tied around the hilt. What was he trying to do?

My heart stops at the sound of a cannon. _Please, don't let that be Peeta!_ Then another booms. But my panic is quickly extinguished when I hear his voice frantically yelling out my name.

"Katniss! Katniss!"

"Peeta!" I scream. "I'm here!" He'll never find me, but maybe that will draw any enemy away from him. Away from him and right to me. And my arrows. And this lightening tree.

_Enemy_...

What did Haymitch say about the enemy? "_Remember who the enemy is."_ His last words of advice were to remember the enemy. And he wasn't referring to the other tributes. He meant the Capitol.

Something clicks in my muddled mind and, as quickly as my shaking hands will allow, I untie the wire from the hilt of Beetee's knife, and fasten it around the end of my arrow. I locate the weak spot in the force field and carefully take aim, letting my arrow fly as the lightning strikes.

After that, the world goes black.

* * *

"Miss Everdeen, have you heard a word I've said?" demands Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee. Turns out he's one of the rebels. Who knew? Not only is he a rebel, but he was the mastermind behind the plot to blow up the arena.

That's right. Beetee's plan wasn't just a scheme to trap the Careers, as Peeta and I were led to believe. It was a plot to break us out of the arena. Most of the tributes were in on it. Not Peeta and me, though. We were mere pawns. Everybody's job was to keep us alive. Only it didn't go so well for Peeta. He got picked up by a Capitol hovercraft, along with Johanna and Enobaria. He's been in their hands for a month, now. Beetee, Finnick, and I were brought to District Thirteen.

Oh, and Johanna wasn't _attacking_ me. She was digging the tracker out of my arm so that the Capitol would be unable to locate me. I'm sure she enjoyed it though, knowing she would have to cause me physical harm in the process. She probably begged for the task.

"That's _Mrs!_" I spit at Plutarch, as a pointed reminder that he handed my husband over to the Capitol.

And no. I haven't paid attention to a word he's said, because it's the same speech I've heard every day since I was released from the hospital. They need me to be the Mockingjay. The face of the rebellion. To blaze the path to victory, and blah, blah, blah. But why should I?

"Perhaps you don't understand how important the Mockingjay is to the rebellion." says President Coin from across the long table of the meeting room.

"Sure I understand," I say bitterly. "It was important to keep Peeta alive in the arena for my sake, but now that you have me here, it doesn't matter what the Capitol does to him."

Plutarch speaks up again. "Now, Katniss, he was prepared—"

I jump to my feet. "He was prepared to die for me! A merciful death in the arena. Not spend the past month being tortured! Everybody who was in on the plot knew what they were risking, but you've fed Peeta to the wolves."

The thought of what they might be doing to him as I stand here sends cold shivers down my spine. "I'm done." I storm out of Command without being dismissed.

I make it a hundred feet down the hall before I have to stop. I quickly locate the nearest restroom and hang my head over a toilet to allow my breakfast to come back up. A side effect of the anxiety medication they have me on. Every single day, like clockwork.

As soon as I'm sure I have nothing left to vomit, I rinse my mouth and continue on my way to my favorite utility closet. I shut the door and curl up against the wall with my head between my knees to combat the dizziness.

A few minutes later, the door opens. I don't have to look up to know who it is.

"Katniss?"

I keep my head down. "What are they doing to him, Gale?" I ask rhetorically. The agony is palpable in my voice.

Gale sits next to me and takes me in his arms. I don't even try to hold back the tears. I let them fall until I'm dried out, wetting Gale's shoulder in the process.

I just wish I knew something. Anything! Is he dead or alive? Did they make him an Avox? That's probably the best I can hope for. But most likely they are torturing him. Not for rebel information—they would have figured out a long time ago that he knows nothing—but in hopes of luring me to the Capitol, so that they can kill me, slowly and painfully.

And believe me, if I had it my way, I'd trade places with him in a heartbeat. I'd steal a plane and fly there myself if I could.

After a while Gale's communicuff begins to beep. He examines the message. "We're wanted back in Command. Peeta's on television."

Peeta!

On television! Alive!

This is the best news I've had in a month.

I jump up and practically sprint down the hall.


	12. Chapter 12

I can't even begin to describe the feelings that flood through me at the sight of Peeta on television. Not only is he alive, but he appears to be unharmed. Not bruised, not scarred, not malnourished. Not an Avox. He's strong. Whole. Handsome. It's like the Quell never happened.

Caesar Flickerman begins the interview by asking what it was like in the arena, and Peeta is very candid in his description. Then they get into the facts surrounding the rebel plot. When it is implied that I was involved, Peeta vehemently defends my case.

But then, as they are about to wrap things up, Peeta...calls for a cease-fire?

_What?_ Why would he do that? Does he not realize how much damage his request can do? If the weaker districts decide to take what he's saying into consideration and lay down their arms, it could be bad for the rebels.

Ironic, isn't it? The Star-Crossed Lovers from District Twelve, working on opposite sides of the rebellion. The husband of the Mockingjay, a traitor.

No, he's not a traitor. Peeta is not fighting for the Capitol. Most likely, he was speaking under duress. Maybe Snow threatened him. But whatever Peeta's reasons for saying what he did, I have to become the Mockingjay now. If any of the districts are tempted by his call for a cease-fire, I must dissuade them.

But if the rebels win the war, he'll be executed for treason.

* * *

After a sleepless night, I decide take on the role under the condition that Peeta—along with the others who were taken from the arena—be granted immunity.

They have more than adequately outfitted me for the part. Cinna made me a uniform that would withstand just about anything, complete with a pocket that holds a poison pill, should the need to take it ever arise. Beetee designed a high-tech bow and arrow for me. They even brought in my old prep team.

My duties mostly involve propaganda, which was originally supposed to be filmed in a quiet studio in Thirteen. But after witnessing my horrible acting skills, Haymitch talked Coin into putting me into active combat zones in order to incite spontaneity out of me.

The very next day, I am sent to District Eight, who has just suffered an air raid at the hand of the Capitol. I spend the majority of my time there at the hospital visiting the wounded. Unfortunately, we soon learn that the Capitol wasn't through with them. When a fresh wave of bombers arrives, Gale and I go against orders and dive right into the thick of the attack, shooting them down. As a result, I end up battered and bloodied. I sustain shrapnel wounds, and have possibly aggravated my concussion. But it made for a pretty incredible propo. Even Coin was impressed.

* * *

The next few days are spent in Thirteen confined to the hospital as I recover from my injuries. The bright side of this is that I get to hang out with Finnick who, unfortunately, spends a great deal of his time there. One of the reasons I enjoy his company is because, since the Capitol has his Annie, he knows my pain.

"The food here is so bland," he says one evening as we eat together.

I nod in agreement. "It's awful. Especially the onions. I don't know what they do to them, but I can't be anywhere near the Dining Hall when they're serving them. I can smell them a mile away, and it makes me puke."

This makes Finnick laugh. "Stop exaggerating. They're not that bad."

"I swear, I'm not," I say. "It's happened every week since I've been here. Always when they're serving onions."

Finnick rolls his eyes.

"I'm serious," I insist. "You can ask my sister." Then my mood suddenly becomes rueful. "I'd give anything for some cheese buns." After Peeta discovered my preference for those, he kept me well supplied. The very thought of them causes me to salivate in a way it never has before. Almost like a primal need. Even worse, it makes me miss Peeta.

Suddenly, my appetite vanishes.

I'm scheduled to be released the next morning.

"How are you feeling?" my mother asks as she checks my vital signs.

"Okay, I guess. Except..."

She picks up on my hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

"Can I get a different medication?" I ask. "The one I'm on makes my chest hurt."

"Let me see what you're taking." She takes a look at my chart. "That's odd. This medication isn't known to cause heart problems."

"No, not my heart," I clarify. "My...my breasts."

"Your breasts?"

"Yeah."

She purses her lips. "They hurt?"

I nod. I can tell by the look on my mother's face that this means something her, but I'm not sure what, or how serious it is. She draws the curtain around my bed for privacy.

"Katniss," she says, keeping your voice low. "I'd like to examine you myself before you go."


	13. Chapter 13

"How is it possible?" I breathe, still reeling from the conclusion my mother came to after she examined me. A conclusion that is now being backed up by an ultrasound.

I can't really be pregnant, can I?

Okay, so the symptoms are there. But the nausea was dismissed as a side effect of the drugs. The food cravings were attributed to the quality of the cafeteria food. Even what should have been the most obvious sign was explained away. A lot of things can cause you to miss a period, and with all the stress I've been under, was it any wonder?

But according to the ultrasound, there is a baby—or possibly a lima bean—swimming around in my womb. It even has a heartbeat. A tiny, rapid little heartbeat.

But _how_?

"I was electrocuted when the arena blew," I say to the doctor numbly. That's another reason pregnancy never crossed my mind. I felt the shock rip through my body. My hair stood on end. I saw a much less jarring jolt nearly kill Peeta just two days before. How on earth could a fetus have survived that?

"Ultrasounds are pretty accurate these days," says the doctor. I actually wouldn't know about that. My mother delivers dozens of babies every year without one. There's no such thing as a due date in the Seam. The baby comes when it's good and ready, approximately nine months after the mother _thinks_ she conceived. According to the machine in front of me, this baby is due mid-April.

The doctor points to something on the screen. "This is your date of conception. Two days after you were rescued."

"So during the three days we spent in the arena..."

She finishes my sentence for me. "There was no baby yet. You and your husband must have been together right before the Games."

We were. The very night before. My head swims as the memory comes floating to my consciousness. We hadn't even bothered with birth control. Why would we, when we both thought we were going to die the next day? But I don't want to talk to the doctor about that. I just keep my lips tight, and assume her statement was rhetorical.

The doctor shakes her head. "You got lucky. Very lucky. From now on, no more war zones. And I'm taking you off all medications, except for what's absolutely necessary. And even with those, I'm cutting the dosages."

_"No more war zones."_ She's probably the only obstetrician who's ever had to say that.

I instinctively place my hand over my belly as I walk back to my compartment. Now my role as the Mockingjay is more important than ever. Because if the rebels lose, this baby is toast.

I wish I could keep this private for a while. It feels too personal to share with people like Coin and Plutarch. I hate them. I'll just tell Haymitch. Let him convey the news. But they need to know before the next propo is planned. And I guess I'll just have to do my best in the studio.

My heart sinks. Because the one person I really wish I could tell is being held in the Capitol. My eyes begin to sting as I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to share this news with him.

"Katniss!" I turn to see Gale running up behind me. "I went looking for you in the hospital, but they said you were released."

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago," I tell him.

"We're needed in Command..." He takes notice of my forlorn expression. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you about it later," is all I say. "What's happening in Command?"

"Beetee thinks he's broken into the Capitol's airwaves. Snow's on live, and we're going to show him your propo."

"Fabulous," I say numbly.

We take our seats in Command, just as Snow appears on the screen. After a short speech, the camera zooms out to reveal Peeta.

I gasp, covering my open mouth with both hands. Because this is not the same Peeta I saw less than a week ago. This Peeta is thin and jittery. Beads of sweat drip down his face, and his eyes are strangely out of focus. They've done their best to groom him, but they couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes, and I can tell it hurts him to move. And, is it me, or did they try to cover up a bruise on his face?

He _has_ been abused! This whole time. The interview from the other day...it's weeks old.

Gale, sitting next to me, reaches over and puts both hands on my shoulders, but is unable to take his eyes off the screen.

"What have they done to him?" I whisper.

He's standing in front of a projected map of Panem, pointing out key infastructure that has been damaged because of the war. Still calling for a cease-fire.

Then suddenly, there I am on the screen, standing before the devastation left in District Eight. It only lasts a few seconds, but when Peeta appears again, it's obvious he's seen the same image. This on-screen battle between Beetee and the Capitol goes back and forth for about half a minute, with Peeta trying to deliver his speech all the while.

Snow appears again. "Obviously, the rebels are trying to keep us from broadcasting incriminating evidence. This program will resume once this security breach has been resolved."

* * *

So far today, I've discovered I'm pregnant and learned the extent of Peeta's suffering. It's a lot to take in, especially for someone just released from the hospital. But I'm not allowed a moment's rest because that afternoon, Gale and I are sent to District Twelve to shoot another propo. Since there's no danger involved, there's no need to mention the baby. I'll tell them tomorrow. Maybe.

It's my first time seeing the devastation in person, and it takes a while before the shock passes. When I finally am able to find my feet, I trudge wearily down the corpse-ridden main road toward the Seam, where they want to film us at our houses. But the route we take passes through the square, where Peeta's family ran the bakery. It's there that I break down.

Gale hurries to my side and whispers something that is probably supposed to be comforting, but it's drowned out by my sobs. No doubt I'm being filmed right now. I'm sure they assume my fit is because of the state of my district.

"I can't do this," I sob.

"You don't have to," says Boggs, at my other side. "We can leave if it's too much for you to be here."

"It's...n-not...th-that," I manage to choke out.

"It's Peeta," Gale says to Boggs.

I nod. "W-what have they...d-done to him?" I blubber.

My hand slides across my belly, and the impossibility of my choice is brought to light. Be the Mockingjay, and Peeta pays. Don't, and the baby does. Either way, I fail somebody. Just like I failed Peeta in the Quell. Just like I failed Rue before that.

Suddenly, my sobs become hysterical. The last thing I remember is the jab of a needle in my arm.


	14. Chapter 14

When I open my eyes, I'm back in the old familiar hospital room. How did I end up here? The memory slowly surfaces—my pregnancy, Peeta's torture, District Twelve in ash, my utter failure—and despair once again washes over me.

"How are you holding up, sweetheart?" Haymitch is in a chair at my bedside.

"How do you think?" My voice heavy with sleep.

He looks up at the clock on the wall, which indicates it's almost seven in the morning. "You've been out thirteen hours."

"Are you serious?" I sit up slowly, noticing the sting in my arm where the needle penetrated my skin. "Ugh. These people can't keep shooting me with drugs whenever they feel like it. It's not good for..." I let the sentence drop just before the word slips.

"I know," he says. "Your mother told me about the baby. We'll be keeping the propos closer to home from now on."

"I can't do it anymore, Haymitch," I say hopelessly.

Haymitch reaches over and squeezes my hand. "We're getting them out, Katniss. All of them. Peeta, Johanna, Enobaria and Annie. Plutarch has people on the inside, and has put together a rescue team. They left last night."

"What took them so long?" I ask bitterly.

"Too risky," he explains, "but it's worth it if it'll keep the Mockingjay going."

I sigh. "Maybe that should have been one of my conditions for doing it in the first place."

Haymitch snorts. "Yeah. Too bad you didn't think of it a month ago. It might have actually worked."

Now I really am kicking myself. I probably could have spared Peeta a lot of torment. But at least it will be over soon.

"I should probably tell you Gale went with them," says Haymitch.

I gasp. "What?"

"He was first to volunteer."

"No!" I sink back onto the pillow, remembering the locket Peeta gave me in the arena when he was trying to convince me to let him save me. Willing to lay down his life so that I might have a future with Gale. And now, here Gale is, essentially doing the same thing—risking his life so that I can have Peeta back.

I don't deserve either of them.

Prim walks up. "Glad to see you finally awake." She pulls out a blood pressure cuff and begins checking my vitals. "Feeling better?"

I shrug. "Ask me again when the rescue mission is over."

Haymitch stands up. "I need to get to Command." He pauses briefly before adding, "Plutarch's pretty hopeful they'll get back alive. In any case, try not to worry. Won't do any good." He pauses. "Easier said than done, I know. See you later Prim."

"Bye, Haymitch."

Prim finishes checking my heart, then takes a seat on the bed. "So...is it true?"

"Is what true?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I know what she's referring to.

She lowers her voice to a whisper. "Are you really pregnant? I heard mom telling Haymitch. She was pretty mad that they gave you that sedative without any warning. But don't worry. The baby should be fine."

I nod. "Yeah, it's true."

Before we can have a real conversation, Prim is called to check on another patient. "You can leave whenever you feel like it," she says as she walks away.

Just as I am checking out, I hear my name. "Katniss!"

I turn around. It's Finnick. "Katniss, you'll never guess what Haymitch just told me."

I don't have to guess. Only one thing could make Finnick this giddy right now. "About the rescue mission?"

I'm surprised he's just now finding out. But if he'd known about it last night, he would most assuredly have been up all night thinking about it. Which is probably why they waited.

"Can you believe it?" He sighs. "I'm going to ask Annie to marry me."

I smile at him. "She's a lucky girl."

"I'm the lucky one." he amends. "So..." He lowers his voice. "When's the baby due?"

_GAH!_ "Has everybody heard about that?"

"Katniss, I could tell," he says. "I'm the oldest of eight kids. My mother stayed pregnant. Besides, you keep rubbing your tummy."

I realize I'm doing that very thing right now.

He shrugs. "And, I also overheard Haymitch telling Plutarch last night in Command."

"Ah." I nod in understanding.

"Still, he only confirmed my suspicions." He offers me his arm. "Care to join me for breakfast?"

The hot grain isn't exactly what I would call appetizing, but being pregnant, and having not eaten in almost a day, I'm not in any position to turn my nose up at it.

"Did you love Annie right away?" I ask as I'm finishing my fruit.

"No, not right away," he says. "I was a mentor in her Games, and every mentor knows not to get attached to a tribute. It's kind of an unspoken rule which, I'm afraid, your Haymitch violated when you and Peeta came along. But after Annie won, she just...crept up on me."

"I can't wait to meet her." I swallow my last spoonful. "Wow. You'd think a pregnant lady would get more to eat."

"Here, take mine." Finnick slides his bowl toward me. "Go ahead," he insists. My temptation must read clearly on my face. "I don't want it."

"Thank you." I shovel it down like there's no tomorrow.

Haymitch and Plutarch call us to film a propo to divert the Capitol's attention from the rescue mission. It also gives us something to do besides wait.

"What we need is something so riveting that even President Snow won't be able to tear himself away. Got anything like that?" Haymitch asks.

A pensive expression crosses Finnick's face. "Actually I have."

We are quickly prepped and assembled aboveground in the ruins. When the cameras start rolling, I start by talking about Peeta—how we met, how I'm handling the separation—then I finish with a declaration of freedom. I suppose it was good enough, and might have even been beautiful, if I weren't followed by Finnick. When his turn comes, he's ready with a whole arsenal of secrets he'd stored up during his days as a Capitol sex slave, probably saving them for a time just like this. Very juicy morsels about the most high-ranking political figures. Although our aim is simply to distract, his revelations will most assuredly bring these people down.

He grins mischievously. "And this is where you'll want to stay tuned, President Snow, because so very many of them were about you."

But the propo only takes up so much time, and when we're done, Finnick and I are left with nothing to do but wait. And wait.

And wait.

We're in the Dining Hall having dinner when Haymitch walks up to us. "They just got in. All of them."

_All of them!_ Finnick and I look blankly at each other for a few seconds. When the news finally registers, we simultaneously jump up and, abandoning our trays, make a beeline for the hospital wing.

The whole place is in an uproar as the injured are brought in. We spot an unconscious Johanna Mason—scarred, head shaven, and completely emaciated—lying on a stretcher.

We continue down the hall. Through a doorway, I spot Gale being treated for a shoulder injury, but am shooed away by a nurse.

Boggs looking a little scathed but otherwise okay, sees us searching frantically. "Annie just woke up," he says to Finnick. "She's right through that door." Then he turns to me. "Peeta is down the hall, last door on the right."

I practically sprint to the room Boggs indicated, but when I get to the door, I stop. He's lying unconscious on a bed, hooked up to an IV. An older medic supervises as Prim draws a blood sample from Peeta's arm.

I approach them slowly. "What's the IV drip for?" I whisper.

"Dehydration," Prim tells me. "And he's going to be out a while. We gave him a sedative before the gas wore off." She seals the phial of blood. "I'm taking this to the lab myself, right now. I'll let you know if anything shows up."

"You're welcome to stay with him," says the medic. And then they're gone.

I walk over to his bedside, and what I see breaks my heart. Peeta's face is badly bruised, one eye swollen shut, and his nose appears crooked, as if it's been broken.

But more than heartbreak, there is a deep sense of relief knowing that he is here with me. Away from Snow. Away from the Capitol. Safe. Safe, and resting peacefully. I think I'm in heaven.

A huge grin spreads across my face. "You're back," I whisper.

I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. I pull up a chair and, with his hand in mine, lay my head down on the bed next to him. It isn't long before sleep finds me.


	15. Chapter 15

I'm awakened when a medic—the same one who was training Prim last night—comes to check on Peeta. It's almost six o'clock in the morning. I've been here twelve hours.

"Your little sister has quite a gift," she says as she removes his IV. "She could teach some of our more experienced staff a thing or two."

"She's amazing," I agree. I look down at Peeta. "How long is his sedative supposed to last?" As much as I want Peeta to get his rest, I'm also anxious for him to wake up. To see me. To know he's safe.

"Shouldn't be too much longer," she says. "Do you want me to have your breakfast delivered here?"

"Could you? Oh, wait." I show her my arm. "I haven't been stamped today." Without my ID number, they won't know how stingy a food portion to give me.

I hate District Thirteen.

"It's okay," she says as she's leaving. "I'll just enter the information manually. Be sure to call us when he wakes up."

"I will." I make a mental note to get her name the next time I see her. She's one of the nicer people I've met here.

I am reluctant to leave Peeta's side, but I can feel the morning sickness starting to kick in. I wish the Intensive Care Units had private restrooms, but they don't, so I have to use the one in the waiting room. When I return, Peeta is still out, and there is a tray of food waiting for me.

_Gee, I wonder what it could be_, I think sarcastically._ Oh, what a surprise! Hot grain, fruit, and milk._

I hate District Thirteen.

As I scrape the bottom of my bowl, the silence in the room is suddenly broken.

"Stay away from her!" Peeta screams in his sleep. "She's a mutt! A lousy, stinking murderous mutt!" I don't have to wonder what terror is plaguing him—he's dreaming of the final battle of our first Games, when we realized that the mutts who were attacking us were our fellow tributes.

The fact that he is talking tells me that the medicine is close to the end of its course. I get up to rouse him, to end his torment. But just as I reach over to shake his shoulder, he says something else. Something disturbing.

"It's Katniss Everdeen's fault!"

This statement pulls me up short. What is he dreaming about? What's my fault?

"No! No, you're lying!" he shouts, and I know it's time to bring him out of this nightmare. I shake his shoulder.

"Peeta! Wake up. Wake up, Peeta!"

He opens his eyes—or rather, his _eye_—paralyzed by obvious fear.


	16. Chapter 16

Peeta looks at me in disbelief. "Katniss?" he says hoarsely.

I smile at him. "Hi, Peeta."

He pushes himself up into a sitting position, but the movement causes him to wince. He ignores the pain though, and takes me in his arms. "Are you really here?"

"I really am," I reply.

He kisses me quickly on the lips. "You shouldn't have come here." Before I can make sesnse of what he just said, he kisses me again. "Snow will kill you if he catches you!" Our lips meet a third time, and I realize what he means. "But I'm so happy to see you!" The fourth kiss is long and lingering. I thought I'd never be able to kiss him again, let alone like this. It's a while before we break apart.

"We're not in the Capitol, Peeta," I say when we finally do. "We're in District Thirteen."

He looks at me, puzzled. "District Thirteen?"

"They sent gas through the ventilation system to knock you out before they got you out of there," I explain. "You've been asleep ever since."

"Who's _they_?" he asks.

"The rescue team Plutarch put together," I tell him.

He looks even more confused. "Plutarch Heavensbee? The Gamemaker?"

I nod. "He masterminded the rebel plot."

He sinks back onto his pillow. I know it's a lot to take in. I remember how disorienting it was for me five weeks ago after being taken from the arena. Waking up on the hovercraft, thinking I was in the Capitol.

"Obviously, we have a lot to talk about," I say. Not the least of which is growing in my belly. My hand slides up automatically. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Not now," he says. "I'm still sleepy. Come, sit next to me." He laboriously scoots over to make room for me on the bed. I can tell he's in a lot of pain.

"Let me call a medic for you," I say.

"Later," he says. "I just want to hold you for a while before they send in their army."

True. Once the doctors find out he's awake, it could be awhile before we can be alone again. So for the moment, I carefully settle in next to him and enjoy our reunion.


	17. Chapter 17

As the day progresses, we come to realize just how long the road to recovery is going to be for Peeta.

There are scars on his torso and back that will never go away. I don't even want to think about what caused those. He is going to require several months of physical therapy to regain full functionality of his left arm, which was bent by a machine in an unnatural way before the Capitol realized he had no knowledge of the plot to blow up the arena. An x-ray reveals a few cracked ribs, which Peeta says came as a result of him, on more than one occasion, trying to fight his attackers. This accounts for his banged-up face as well. But I soon find out that the most disturbing injury Peeta suffers is psychological rather than physical.

"Your lab results revealed a large amount of tracker-jacker venom in your system," says Dr. Chenoweth, District Thirteen's lead psychiatrist. "We have reason to believe the Capitol has hijacked you."

I shake my head at the unfamiliar term. "They did what?"

"It's called hijacking," the doctor explains. "It's a form of torture in which your memories are taken and altered so that they're frightening. If I remember correctly, you were stung in the arena, right?"

I nod my head. "We both were."

"Well then you remember how the venom works. It's a hallucinogen that targets the part of the brain that registers fear."

I do remember. The fear, the hallucinations, the confusion. I spent three days passed out, swallowed up by my worst nightmares. And even after the venom had worked its way out of my system, I was still unsure whether I'd actually seen, or merely imagined Peeta fighting off Cato to save me.

"When prompted to recall a specific event under the influence of the venom," Dr. Chenoweth continues, "it causes the subject to hallucinate a different, scarier version of the memory. After that, your brain only remembers the altered version."

"And this is what they did to Peeta?" I am horrified.

"It's very possible," Dr. Chenoweth says. "That is specifically what the Capitol developed the venom for. As to what they were hoping to accomplish, only Peeta can shed some light on that."

Peeta sits in silence, reluctant to offer any information. Dr. Chenoweth puts his behavior down to confusion and sets up an appointment. After the doctor leaves, Peeta hides his face in his hands.

"It was you," he says dejectedly. "They were trying to turn me against you. They told me that you abandoned me in the Quell, hoping I would get killed so that you could be with Gale. And then they showed me a tape of you two kissing in the woods."

"The woods outside of District Twelve," I say, remembering my first hunt with Gale after returning from the first Games. "But I told you about that kiss." I'm grateful to Peeta for not mentioning something so private in front of the doctor.

"They also told me you caused the bombing that killed my family."

So he knows about that. I was worried about how I would break the news.

"They tried to make me believe you were a mutt."

A mutt? The mention of the word reminds me of something Peeta was yelling in his sleep. _"She's a mutt! A lousy, stinking murderous mutt!" _And then he followed it with, _"It's all Katniss Everdeen's fault!"_

So...I was the mutt in his nightmare.

I think my heart actually stops.

"But...it didn't...it didn't work." I stammer. "Obviously, you don't think I'm...a mutt."

"Well...no," Peeta says. "I know you're not a mutt. But I still saw the images they wanted me to see, and the hijacked versions are all I can remember. The venom was too potent to allow me to...to _un_see them." Tears begin to run down his face. "I have nightmares of you." His shoulders slump forward. "Katniss, I'm so ashamed."

"Don't be." I lift his chin, forcing him to look at me. "It's not your fault, Peeta. We'll figure this out. You were happy to see me this morning, so you must have some good memories left, right?"

"Yes." A smile spreads across his face. "There are some that the Capitol didn't take."

I urge him to continue. "Like what?"

"Like the night you told me you love me," he says. "I think hanging onto that is what kept me from breaking completely."

The mention of that night brings the baby to the forefront of my mind. Because according to the ultrasound, that's the night it was conceived. "Peeta, there's something I really need to tell you."

"What?" The look on Peeta's face suggests he's bracing himself for bad news. "That really happened, didn't it? Right before the Quell?"

"Yes, it did," I say. "And I meant it when I said it. And it's still true today. Whatever the Capitol made you believe about me and Gale is wrong. He's a good friend, and nothing more."

"I believe you, Katniss," he says.

I nod once. "Good."

Just as I am about to tell him, the door opens a crack. Prim sticks her head in. "Knock, knock. Dinner is here."

The smell of onions hits me like a wrecking ball. _Oh, no!_ With my hand over my mouth, I make a beeline to the trash can in the corner. This causes Peeta to panic.

"Katniss, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Katniss, I'm so sorry," Prim says. "I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?" Peeta demands. "Is she sick? What's wrong with her?"

"I need to get these out of here." I hear Prim quickly exit the room taking the offensive smell with her.

When I'm sure I'm finished, I turn and face him, smiling a little sheepishly.

He looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

There's no sense beating around the bush, so I just come out with it. "I'm pregnant, Peeta."


	18. Chapter 18

Peeta's brow furrows in concentration. "Oh, yes...I remember. But that was just a hoax."

It takes me a moment to realize he's referring to the interview before the Quell. "Yeah, it was supposed to be."

He doesn't say anything for a minute, just looks as though he's waiting for the punchline. When I don't come out with "_Just kidding_" or some equivalent, he finally asks, "You really are pregnant?"

I nod. "I really am." Like I would ever joke about something like that.

"With a real baby?"

I can't help but laugh. Did he really just ask me that? "Well, it's not a velociraptor."

He doesn't say anything. Just stares at me with wide eyes.

"Oh, Peeta. What are we going to do? If we lose this war..." I stop myself before finishing the thought. I can't bring myself to think about what Snow will do to the baby if things turn out badly for the rebels. This is the very thing I've always sworn to prevent. This is exactly why I was never going to get married. And now, here I am. Married _and_ pregnant. Yeah, the joke's on me, all right.

"That won't happen." Peeta comes over and places a hand on my abdomen. The expression on his face is a strange blend of fierce protectiveness and unyielding resolve. "We will win this war."

I place my hand over his, somehow assured by his words. "We _will_ win this war."

* * *

Peeta is released to his own compartment—_our_ own compartment—once it is determined that the venom is out of his system. Because he's still recovering from his injuries, he is excused from having his arm stamped, which leaves him with a lot of down time. And since I've been in the habit of blowing off my stupid schedule from day one, it works out well for both of us.

But if being pregnant doesn't excuse me from Mockingjay duties, neither does having a convalescent husband. It's not that Peeta needs me to take care of him around the clock—on the contrary, he's just fine on his own—but after more than a month apart, I'm reluctant to be away from him for too long.

Nonetheless, the minute Gale is out of the hospital, we are sent back to District Twelve to finish the propo that had to be abandoned when I broke down. There was talk of Peeta being a part of it, but he wasn't sure he could handle it. Unlike Gale and me, he lost every member of his family—a realization that hit him hard a few nights ago. No, a trip to Twelve wouldn't be the best idea for him right now.

While there, I consider picking up a few panels of canvas and some paint supplies for Peeta. I'm not sure if Coin would approve of his hobby, or see it as a frivolous waste of time. Most likely the latter, but I decide I don't care. She doesn't have to know about it, and anyway, after everything Peeta's been through, the least she can do is let him paint a damn picture. If she has a problem with it, she can go die in a fire.

Plutarch approaches me one afternoon about doing the propos with Peeta. While I'm rattled by his intention to exploit the Star-Crossed Lovers, I have to admit it's probably not a bad idea. I have to stay out of active combat, which leaves us with few other options but to use the studio. It bombed at my first attempt, but with Peeta by my side, together we might actually be able to produce something usable. He always has been at home in front of the camera. Besides, the people of Panem need to know he's fighting for the rebels. When I mention the idea to Peeta, he's all for it. Anything to keep the baby safe.

* * *

The day of Finnick and Annie's wedding arrives, and is nothing short of breathtaking. Everything, from the decorations of fall foliage to the choir of children makes for an incredible party. But at the sight of the grass net that they stand under during their vows, and the sound of their wedding song being played—things that are unique to their district—I am slightly envious. For Peeta and me, our wedding had "Capitol" written all over it.

"We could have at least had a toasting," I tell Peeta. "Why didn't we do that?" Too busy preparing for the Quell, I guess.

"Tell you what," he replies, "After the war, when we get back to Twelve, that's the first thing we'll do."

I forgot. He hasn't seen Twelve yet. We'll certainly have our work cut out for us when we get back. But even so, the thought of one day returning home, maybe rebuilding the bakery for our family to live in, makes me smile.

I notice Gale and Johanna dancing together quite a bit, but when I catch him kissing her on the cheek, that's when I suspect something is blooming between them. The second I spot Gale alone, I seize the opportunity to give him the third degree.

"So...you and Johanna, huh? When did she catch your eye?"

"In the hospital," he says. "Caught her trying to steal my morphling. Figured she needed it more than I did, so I let her. And then we got to talking. Mostly about you."

About me. Surprise, surprise.

"She's older than you," I point out.

He shrugs. "Only by three years."

I crack a smile. "The first time I met her, she stripped down naked."

This statement causes him to raise an eyebrow. She must not have told him that. Guess I just gave them something else to talk about.

"You know, you might just be man enough to handle her," I say approvingly. I leave him with that, and seek out Peeta for another dance.


	19. Chapter 19

"NOOOOOOO!"

The agonized cry pierces the darkness, awakening me from my own fitful slumber. I quickly act to end Peeta's torment. "Wake up!" I shake his shoulder. "Wake up!"

He opens his eyes, and even in the darkness, I can see they are overtaken by this clouded appearance. A quality that is usually present during a particularly brutal nightmare.

"Katniss!" He takes me in his arms.

"What happened?" I ask. It is Dr. Chenoweth's instruction that Peeta talk about his nightmares. Peeta has taken this advice a step up by keeping a journal. He says it helps, and in fact, his nightmares—at least the ones of me—seem to have abated somewhat.

"We had two children. A girl and a boy. The boy was sixteen, the girl was twelve. It was Reaping Day, and they both got picked. Both of them at the same time. And you and I had to mentor them."

I cringe at Peeta's horrifying account. Because what he just described is my own worst terror. One that will surely become reality if the rebels lose this war.

But that won't happen. All the districts have been secured. The Capitol is weakened. The troops will be shipping out in a couple of days for the final assault. Victory is within our grasp. We can't possibly lose now...can we?

"It was only a dream, Peeta." I say, trying to convince myself as much as him. "We're going to win this war, and there will be no more Games."

"Katniss, I'm not sure I can do this." He pushes himself into a sitting position. "I don't think I can be a parent. Not after what the Capitol did to me."

I'm taken aback by his confession, because I've always thought the contrary. Our baby is indeed blessed to have Peeta as it's father. "What makes you say that?"

He shakes his head. "I don't expect you to fully understand how messed-up I am, when even Dr. Chenoweth doesn't know much about hijacking. But I have all these memories that I have to remind myself aren't real. I barely held on to reality every time they shot me with that venom. And right now it would seem that they weren't able to carry their plans to fruition, but...what if they actually did? What if, the whole time, their plan was for me to seem okay on the surface, only to have a deranged version of myself come out later? You know, like a time bomb."

I have to admit, that's a valid point. And a scary one.

A question hits me. "How can you tell which memories are real?"

"I honestly wasn't sure at first," he says. "I just trusted that the good ones about you were the real ones, since the Capitol was trying to feed me lies. But now, I can make out this...shiny sort of quality about the hijacked ones. You remember when we were stung?"

I do remember. All the crazy things I saw were shiny.

"Well, there you go," I say. "If anything, you have a better grip on reality now than you did the day you were rescued." This brings me to another question. One I've been meaning to ask. "Why do you think the Capitol couldn't take all of your memories?"

"I'm not sure. I think..." He takes a moment to figure out how to explain it. "I think it's because they could only tamper with memories they knew I had. Mostly what they did was show me tapes of the Games, and the Victory Tour. And they played on my insecurities over your relationship with Gale. But they couldn't _read_ my mind, so they didn't know about the night you told me you love me, or our conversation during that fuel stop. Or that day I gave you that bread. Does that make sense?"

I nod. "So you're saying that the Capitol ruined all your fond memories of the Games?"

This actually makes Peeta laugh out loud. "Okay, point taken."

"I'm scared too, Peeta," I finally admit. "I'm afraid I won't be able to keep this baby safe." I fight tears as I continue. "All I can think of is the first arena, when Rue was right there, within arms reach of me, and I still couldn't protect her."

Peeta rests his hand on my belly, which has begun to protrude a bit. Not that anyone but me would notice. "I have faith in you, Katniss."

I place my hand on top of his, somehow reasurred by his words. "I have faith in you too, Peeta."


	20. Chapter 20

Emotions are high the morning the troops leave for the Capitol. I am hit with a pang of guilt at the sight of Finnick kissing Annie goodbye, wondering if they'll ever see each other again. It hardly seems fair that I get to stay here with Peeta, but—aside from the fact that neither of us have been through training—I can't go to in my condition, and Peeta is still under the care of his head doctor. But at least Annie can take comfort in knowing Finnick won't be on the front lines. The squad he and Gale are on is mostly for show. They won't be seeing as much battle as the others.

Watching Gale's goodbye to his family tugs at my heartstrings, especially when he lifts little Posey into his arms and kisses her on the nose. He has a little moment with Johanna—nothing like Finnick and Annie's, but sweet nonetheless—and then he turns to me. He holds out his hand but, just as I did before the Quell, I ignore it and fling myself at him. He's a bit hesitant to return my embrace, which I suspect has something to do with Peeta standing there beside me, but then decides it's okay. Maybe the two of them made some silent exchange behind my back.

"Oh, Catnip, don't you start crying, too," he says.

Too late. I've always been good at keeping my emotions in check, but it's impossible with pregnancy hormones to contend with.

"I just want you to know," I blubber, still locked in his arms. "I could never have made it through these last six years without you. Thank you for taking care of my family, and..." I'm choking on my words now, which is making speech difficult, but somehow I manage to continue. "and for your part in rescuing Peeta, and just...being there. You're my dearest friend, and nothing will ever change that."

"Right back at you, Catnip."

"Promise me you'll come home," I plead.

"I'll do my best." He squeezes me one more time before finally releasing me.

As I watch him walk away, I get the feeling it's Reaping Day all over again. Only this time, he's the one going off to the Games. But unlike before, when I left, there is a real chance he and Finnick might actually make it home.

Peeta and I don't idle about Thirteen while the Capitol is being infiltrated. Since the _Star-Crossed Lovers Reunited_ propos have proven quite successful, and since the war is pretty much over in the districts, we are sent out to document how they have been affected. It seems odd to be filming propos this late in the game, since my main job as the Mockingjay is done—which is a good thing, since I won't be able to wear the suit much longer—but Plutarch says it was Coin's idea and, while Coin isn't exactly my favorite person in the world, she seems to know what she's doing as the leader of this rebellion, so I don't question it too much. And anyway, it gives us something to do besides wait around for news.

After three days in District Five, mostly lending a helping hand wherever we can—chopping firewood, repairing damage to homes—we are back on the hovercraft headed to Nine for the next assignment. En route, I rest my head on Peeta's shoulder, and slowly begin to nod off. I am vaguely aware of the television blaring war footage, but am too far gone to care what's happening in the Capitol at the moment.

I am just on the edge of sleep when Peeta speaks up. "It's Prim!"

"Huh?" This gets my attention. My head snaps up. My eyes dart up to the television, and sure enough, there is Prim on the steps of the President's Mansion, which has just been bombed, tending to an injured child.

What is my sister doing in the Capitol? Working on the front lines? I can see, as skilled as she is, how she would have been considered to go, and I've no doubt she is glad to be doing something for the cause, but she's only thirteen. She's still months away from—.

Before I can finish the thought, there is a second explosion.

Right there on the steps. Where Prim is working.

Suddenly, the world goes black.


	21. Chapter 21

When I come to, I am lying on a long, padded table. Peeta is standing over me, holding my hand tightly. The expression on his face is one I've never seen before.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"About five minutes," he says.

Suddenly the image on television comes flooding back to me. My eyes widen in fear. "Prim?"

"Katniss..." is all he can say. I've never known Peeta Mellark to be at a loss for words, but I guess there's a first time for everything. His silence tells me everything I don't want to know.

"No!" I refuse to accept it. Prim can't be dead. Not after everything I've done. I hunted illegally at the age of eleven. I made sure she would never have to sign up for tesserae. When she was reaped, I volunteered in her stead. Prim can't be dead.

Somebody approaches Peeta, holding out a phone. "For you, Mr. Mellark."

Peeta takes the device. "This is Peeta Mellark. Yes, Haymitch."

Haymitch? I quickly sit up. "Let me talk to him," I demand.

Peeta gives me a nod and holds up one finger. Whatever he and Haymitch are talking about is impossible to decipher from Peeta's brief responses, but at the moment, I'm not very much concerned about that. I'm going to talk to Haymitch, and he is going to tell me that Prim is in District Thirteen, safely bunkered underground, far away from the Capitol. The medic on television—with the blond hair and the blue eyes, and wearing the gray District Thirteen uniform—that was just a look-alike. It's possible, right?

Finally, Peeta hands me the phone. "Where's Prim?" I demand into the mouthpiece.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," says Haymitch. "I would have—."

I quickly hang up, as if refusing to hear anymore will somehow make the inevitable untrue.

But how can I deny it anymore? Prim is dead.

"What did he want?" I ask Peeta in a hollow voice.

"He needs to meet us in the Capitol tomorrow. He was very cryptic about it, but he said it's urgent."

The Capitol...

The mention of the word keeps me from slipping into complete despondency. Yes, I'll go to the Capitol. I'll go, and I'll kill Snow myself. Avenging Prim's death is the least I could do for her, especially since I failed her in life.

I don't have a plan, but I'll think of something...

* * *

We land on the outskirts of the Capitol early the next morning, where Haymitch is waiting with a car. As we wind through the city, we are aghast by the scene around us. It's certainly a far cry from the one we remember. The sparkling rainbow of buildings has been replaced by smoldering rubble and debris. In some places, the fires still rage on. The smoke and ash polluting the air makes breathing difficult, even inside the car. The streets are littered with the corpses of people who were unable find shelter. It's as bad as walking through Twelve.

After about twenty minutes, we are dropped off in front of a row of shops, but we don't stop here. We travel the rest of the way to our destination on foot through a series of alleyways and gardens. Wherever Haymitch is taking us, he's avoiding the main route. But why the need for secrecy, when Snow has surrendered? Shouldn't it now be safe to travel?

We finally arrive at a dingy shop with mannequins in the windows displaying fur underwear. We enter, and are met with the strangest woman I've ever seen. And considering this is the Capitol, that says a lot. Her skin is dyed orange, and tattooed with black stripes. Her nose is flat and pinkish, and her nails are cut to resemble claws. This woman has had herself surgically altered to resemble a tiger, complete with a tail and whiskers. Haymitch appropriately addresses her as Tigris.

"What are we doing in this place?" I whisper to Haymitch as we follow Tigris to the back of the store.

"It's the only place we can talk in private," he says.

We are led to a cold, dank cellar, dimly lit by a fluorescent bulb. The tight space is occupied by two small children who appear to be injured, lying in makeshift beds of fur. There is one medic tending to them. And by the uniform, it's a rebel medic. And even though she has her back to me, I know that duck tail anywhere.

My heart actually stops as the realization sinks in.

"Prim!" I squeal in a momentary lapse of discretion. I quickly cup my hand over my mouth. "You're alive," I whisper.

* * *

_**What? You didn't really think I killed Prim off, did you? After I saved Peeta from hijacking, and set Gale up with Johanna?**_


	22. Chapter 22

I run up and throw my arms around Prim, not even bothering to hold back the tears. I can't believe it. Not only is she alive, but she's not even burned. In fact, other than a long bandage on her forearm, she's virtually unscathed! A strange mixture of relief and joy surge through me. It's the same thing I felt the day Peeta was rescued.

"Am I dreaming?" I weep. "If I am, please don't wake me."

Prim laughs. "You're very much awake, Katniss."

Haymitch sets a backpack on the floor next to her. "This ought to last you a couple of days. Looks like we've got some explaining to do."

"I should say so," says Peeta. He's still a little put out with Haymitch for not letting us in on the rebel plot in the arena.

"What's going on?" I ask.

He gestures toward the stairs. "Have a seat, you two." Peeta and I obey, and Haymitch dives into his explanation. "Prim is in hiding. Coin has had it in for Katniss from day one. As the Mockingjay, you'll have a lot of influence over the decision of who will run this country once this rebellion is over, and Coin knows you don't think much of her. That makes you a threat. And now that your job is done, she doesn't need you anymore. She wanted to send you to the Capitol."

"What?" Peeta is appalled. "But she's pregnant."

"I haven't even been through training," I chime in.

"I know, I know," Haymitch continues. "Her argument was that she was going to put you on the squad with Gale and Finnick. Keep you out of the thick of combat. And that you didn't need training, after surviving two arenas. But her true intention was to have you killed. She wanted to send you too, Peeta, but lucky for both of you, your doctors have veto power."

Why doesn't this news surprise me? Here I am, a pawn in yet another person's Games. "Okay, but what does this have to do with Prim?"

"Prim's death was her Plan B," Haymitch explains. "Since she couldn't eliminate you, she thought she'd make you mentally unstable. She was hoping to discredit you. Maybe even make you suicidal."

A lightbulb clicks on in my head. I thought the assignment Coin sent me an Peeta on over the past couple of days was strange. There's really not much need for propaganda now that the districts have been unified. "Is that why she sent me out to the Districts? So I wouldn't find out Prim was gone until it was too late?"

Haymitch just nods. "I would have gotten word to you if I could have, but Beetee and I had to work fast."

"What does Beetee have to do with this?" Peeta asks.

"He's the brains behind Prim faking her death. After the first explosion, Prim and a bunch of other medics were sent in to help. Beetee used some kind of video hocus pocus to make it look as though a second explosion had occurred."

My mouth hangs open. So there was only one bomb dropped outside the Mansion. Now I'm intrigued. "How?"

"Well, there was a twenty-second delay, and he somehow dubbed actual footage with tapes of fireballs from the—. Look, I don't know. It's Beetee. He's a technical genius. The point is, Coin now thinks Prim's dead. So until the dust settles, your job is to act all torn up whenever you're out in public, for both your sake, and your sister's. Got it, sweetheart?"

I nod. "How much does mom know of this?"

"She knows everything," Prim says. "She's at the hospital, keeping busy so that she won't drown in grief."

I nod in understanding, then my eyes drift to the sleeping children. "What happened to them?"

"Shot by Peacekeepers," she says as she brushes the hair away from the boy's forehead. "I found them in the street on the way here, crying. The hospital is terribly overcrowded, so I brought them down here. It's not ideal, but the furs are keeping them warm enough, and Haymitch brought food and clothes." She gives a nod to the backpack. "I've extracted the bullets and stitched them up. They're sleeping off the chloroform now."

"They look like brother and sister," I say.

"They are," she says. "They boy is four. His name is Cicero. His sister, Auralia, is three. That's all I got from them. Their parents weren't so lucky."

"Poor little things." Peeta frowns at the sight of them. "Will they be okay?"

"They should be fine," Prim says. "The bullets didn't hit any vitals. I'm going to try to locate their relatives as soon as I can get out of here. Until then, looks like they'll be in my care."

"We need to get up to the Mansion before they start wondering where we are," says Haymitch. "And remember, you're completely destroyed. So stop looking like your sister just came back from the dead." He cracks a smile at the last part.

I obediently switch to a crestfallen expression. At least my hormones are on my side.

He turns to Prim. "I'll send more provisions whenever I can."

"Thank you, Haymitch," says Prim.

"I'll see you soon." I give Prim one last hug before we part.


	23. Chapter 23

I lay awake that night in our room at the President's Mansion, still reeling over our earlier conversation with Haymitch. _"Coin has had it in for you from day one."_ Okay, so my usefulness to her has run its course and now I'm a threat. I can stomach that.

But to try to kill my sister! Now I understand what it means to see red. Hot, burning hatred courses through my veins. Nobody threatens Prim and gets away with it. Nobody!

And it's not just Prim. I have my baby to think of. The conditions in this country are the very reason I never wanted to have children, and Coin has proven she is just as calculating and power-hungry as Snow. Nothing will change under her leadership. She'll rule with just as tight a grip. Probably even find a way to justify continuing the Games. And why not? After all, they worked so effectively for Snow.

I can't let any child of mine grow up with that looming over them. Coin must be eliminated. I don't know how, but the opportunity to end this tyranny will somehow present itself. Until then, I have to bide my time. Act like I'm distraught. And let Coin believe she has me under her thumb.

For the first time, as if to back me up, a movement occurs from within my womb. I place my hand over the spot where I felt it, and my resolve is stiffened.


	24. Chapter 24

The next two days pass uneventfully, which suits me just fine.

The suite Peeta and I are staying in at the President's Mansion is one of the smallest, reserved for less important guests like Mockingjays, and celebrity Star-Crossed Lovers. It is about the size of the house I grew up in, but the ornate decor is more like that of our house in the Victor's Village. It is divided into two separate rooms—a living/dining area, and a bedroom. It is here where Peeta and I confine ourselves, partly in keeping with the depressed-over-my-sister's-death charade, but mostly because...well, because what else are we going to do in this war-ravaged city?

I'm not really sure why Coin wants me here. The war is over. She doesn't need me anymore—a point that Haymitch has made pretty clear—but she hasn't released me from Mockingjay duties yet, either. Maybe she's keeping me close so that she can keep an eye on me. I don't know. But my family is here, so I'm not complaining. Although, for obvious reasons, I can't drop in on Prim, it makes me feel better to know that, should the need arise, I know where to find her.

And while the Capitol, let alone the President's Mansion, isn't exactly my favorite place to be, at least I get to eat whatever I want, as much as I want. For the first time in more than four months, I'm allowed to eat like a pregnant woman.

"It still doesn't compare to your cheese buns," I tell Peeta as I gorge myself with a breakfast of eggs, sausage, and biscuits. "I'd give anything for some of those."

"Add that to our list," he replies. This list he's referring to is of things we plan to do when we return to District Twelve.

"What've we got so far?" I tick it off with my fingers. "Toasting, cheese buns..."

"Rebuild the bakery," Peeta continues. "Move out of the Victor's Village."

"That's the best part," I say. "I hate that house."

"I've never been too fond of it either," Peeta admits.

A thought hits me. "I'd also like to build my mother an apothecary shop. Like the one her parents ran when she was growing up."

The thought of returning to home and actually having a normal life with Peeta has me wavering in my resolve to kill Coin. Because if I kill Coin, I'll most assuredly be signing my own death warrant, which will most assuredly devastate Peeta. Every time I look into those blue eyes, I think of that night on the beach in the Quell. _"If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all,"_ he'd told me. _"You're my whole life. I would never be happy again."_ And that was before he lost his entire family.

On the other hand, I'll at least be allowed to live long enough to have the baby, so he'll always have a piece of me with him.

On the other hand, if Coin is allowed to stay in power, we could very well end up mentoring this piece of me in the Games someday.

I sigh, pressing my eyelids closed with my fingers. I'm weary. All this fighting and it's like the rebellion never happened. All we've done is traded one dictator for another. And the districts have spent so much energy fighting the Capitol they have no strength left to deal with Coin.

Had that been her plan all along? To let the Capitol and the districts destroy one another and then seize the throne?

The conversation Peeta and I had on the Victory Tour also keeps nagging at me. _"There's no point in not being straight with each other."_ That's what we agreed. But there's no way I can tell him what I'm planning to do. Sure, after Haymitch's revelation, I've no doubt he agrees that Coin is evil, but that doesn't mean he's okay with me personally taking on the role of assassin.

But if I don't do it, who will? And will he ever forgive me, even after I'm gone, for keeping this from him?

Still, there's another promise I made to Peeta. _"We will win this war."_ I said that to him the day I told him I was pregnant. And it's not a victory with Coin running the show.

And I can't forget what that bitch did to Prim! That same bitter hatred from the other night swells up in me once again.

That's it. That's all there is to it. I have to kill Coin.

"Is something wrong?" Peeta asks, pulling me out of my reverie.

A sudden fluttering sensation from my womb makes for a convenient and welcome subject change. I rub it instinctively, and smile. "The baby is moving."

"Really?" He eagerly places his hand over my belly. After a moment he frowns slightly. "I don't feel anything."

"You will in a couple of months," I assure him. At least, that's what they tell me. I don't know from personal experience. Not yet, anyway.

"We need to think of names," he says.

"I thought we'd find out what it is first," I reply.

"Wouldn't you rather be surprised?" He looks a little disappointed.

I shrug. "If you'd prefer."

We're interrupted by an urgent knock at the door.

"That can't be Haymitch." Peeta goes to answer it. "Isn't he usually passed out by now?" Peeta and I aren't the only ones taking advantage of the perks of the Capitol.

"But he's the only one who ever comes to see us," I point out. And then I wonder if I'm expected to attend the trials of Snow's henchmen, the first of which began an hour ago. But Coin hasn't said anything to me about it. Or maybe she did, and I forgot. Could she have sent someone to fetch me?

Peeta opens the door, and a tipsy Haymitch shoots past him. "Turn on the television," he orders.

I obey, and my mouth falls open at the scene unfolding on the news.

President Coin has been shot.


	25. Chapter 25

It had happened on the steps of the Justice Building. Coin was headed inside for the trial of one of Snow's goons, when someone in the crowd opened fire, hitting her in the back. The bullet got her in the right shoulder. An ambulance was called to the scene, but because an artery had been severed, Coin died before she got to the hospital.

"It was the wife of the guy being tried today," says Haymitch. "She tried to get away, but couldn't get through the crowd. Now she's about to share the same fate as her husband."

There is now an emergency election underway to determine who the next president will be, and it looks as though Commander Paylor, from District Eight, is a favorite. I like Paylor. Gale and I fought alongside her while Eight was being bombed.

After the report, I collapse to the ground, unable to control my tears. Damn pregnancy hormones!

"Katniss?" Peeta sits beside me and pulls me into his lap. He gently rubs my back as my eyes wet his shoulder.

"I'm just..." I barely manage to choke out the words. "I'm...just...so..." I'm sobbing so hard now, I can't even finish the sentence.

Part of me—the protective mamma bear in me—would love to have been the one to pull that trigger. But a larger part is glad I don't have to. And not just because of how Peeta would have to suffer for my actions, but also because I really don't want to kill anybody else. Enough people have died at my hand.

"There, there," Peeta continues to console me. "Everything is going to be okay now." I can't ignore the obvious relief tinting his voice. Clearly he'd had the same worries that have been preying on me.

My head snaps up suddenly. "Prim," I whisper. I jump up and make a beeline for the door.

My sudden urgency surprises Peeta. "Where are you going?"

"To get Prim out of that cold cellar," I say as I put on my jacket.

"Um...Katniss..." Haymitch hedges.

"What?" I demand impatiently.

They're both eyeing me from head to toe, looking amused. I look down at myself and see what they see.

"Oh." I'm still wearing my pajamas.

* * *

Haymitch calls for a car and we skulk along the same roundabout route we took to Tigris' shop the other day.

"Is this still necessary?" I whisper to Haymitch. "Why can't we just drive up to the front door?"

"Because until Prim fleshes out her alibi, she's still dead," he explains. "Coin wasn't the only one who saw her get blown up."

Of course.

We arrive at the cellar to find the children lying in their beds of fur. They're alert, but visibly weak. Prim sits with them, touching them affectionately and telling an old familiar children's story.

"We came to spring you," I announce.

"Oh, good," Prim says. "I'm anxious to get them to the hospital."

"We have a car waiting" Haymitch says. "You can take it."

When I start to lift the little girl, Peeta objects. "No heavy lifting for you."

"Heavy?" I look at him incredulously. "Peeta, she can't weigh more than—"

"He's right, sweetheart," Haymitch chimes in. "I'll take her."

I let out an exasperated sigh. Is this really how it's going to be for the next five months?

The two men each gingerly lift a child into their arms. As we walk back to the car the sight of the boy's head resting on Peeta's shoulder has me imagining him carrying our own child. It makes me smile. Despite whatever doubts he harbors, I know he's going to be a good dad.

* * *

Later that day, back at the President's Mansion, Plutarch pays a visit.

"Good evening, Mrs. Everdeen," he greets in his pompous, self-important manner. "Wonderful news about your sister."

"I'm still in shock," I lie.

Beetee was smart in the way he portrayed Prim's death. When the second blast occored—the one he brilliantly fabricated—Prim is seen being knocked backward. Anyone watching would assume she'd died. But it doesn't show where she landed. Beetee let that happen off-camera. That's where Prim's alibi picks up.

Prim's story is that she landed about ten feet away and rolled down the steps to the street. That's where she found the two children bleeding to death. Fearing they would never have made it to the hospital, she quickly found shelter and fixed them up. After a couple of days, when they were finally stable enough to be moved, she flagged down a kindly stranger who helped her. She was unable to get in touch with the rest of the medics because, in all the chaos, she lost her communication device.

Well, it's partly true.

A lot of the medics who were present swear—and with good reason—that they don't remember a second blast. Others insist that there was one, and with the footage to back them up, it can't really be disputed. Only a handful of us know the truth, and we're not talking.

"I'll get right to the point," Plutarch says. "As you know, President Snow's execution is close at hand. And as the face of the rebellion, we thought it would be very fitting if you were the one to do it. Sort of symbolic. The last shot fired in the war."

I'm taken aback by Plutarch's request. Did he really just ask me to kill a person as though it's official business? And I suppose it technically is, but...how do you just ask something like that?

Okay, I have to admit that under different circumstances—if Snow were still in power, still had Peeta prisoner, or if Peeta's hijacking had been a lot worse than it was, or if it had been him who'd tried to kill Prim—I might be chomping at the bit to put an arrow in him. But right now, I just want...

I just want to go home.

So rather than snap back at him with the disgust only Plutarch Heavensbee can make me feel, I remain composed.

"Sorry," I tell him, "but I'm afraid I must decline."

* * *

_**Okay, the angst-y part is over. Prepare to float on giant white clouds of fluffiness. And for those of you requesting more Katniss/Peeta interaction, buckle your seatbelt.**_


	26. Chapter 26

**_I warned you this would be fluffy!_**

* * *

I wake the next morning the the feel of lips brushing along my jaw.

I giggle. "Again?"

"I had a pretty sweet dream after you chased that nightmare away," Peeta says, making his way down my neck.

"Mmm." I close my eyes, taking in the sensation. "Always happy to help." The memory of my own dream comes bubbling to the surface. "I had a good dream too."

"Oh, really?" His lips are at the hollow of my throat now. His hand moves along the side of my unclothed body and rests on my hip.

"Apparently not about the same thing you did," I say wryly. "It was about you and the baby." Peeta stops kissing me to listen. "Only she wasn't a baby. She was older—maybe Posey's age—and looked just like you, with the curly blond hair, and the blue eyes. The two of you were painting together."

"What were we painting?" he asks.

"Dandelions," I say. "On her bedroom wall."

Peeta's brows furrow in concentration. He does this sometimes when he's trying to remember something. "You picked a dandelion the day after I gave you the bread."

"Yes. It's always been like a...like a symbol of hope for me." It seems to need more of an explanation. "We were on the brink of starvation. And when you gave me that bread, you gave me hope that we would survive. And when I saw the dandelion, I knew how."

"Hope..." A pensive look crosses Peeta's face. "That's sort of how I view this baby. You remember our conversation on the roof of the Training Center the night before we got married? How dark things seemed at the time?"

I nod. "We were never going to have children."

"Right. And even after we found out we were expecting, there was still the fear of what would happen if we lost the war. And then what we found out about Coin. But now those threats are gone. Maybe things will be okay after all. Am I making any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense," I say.

After a long pause, he speaks again. "Do you always dream of a girl?"

I shake my head. "No, sometimes it's a boy. But it always has your blue eyes."

"I dream of both, too," he says. "And it's always singing."

I laugh. "A singing baby?"

"No, an older child," he says. "And the birds stop to listen. That's how I fell in love with you, you know."

Hearing him talk so lovingly about the baby makes my heart melt. There is a brightness in his eyes that I've never seen before, and it's only given prominence by the morning sun, as it streams in through the windows and highlights his endless lashes.

Unable to help myself, I reach up and pull him into my arms, and we pick up where we left off.

* * *

Since there's really no need for us in the Capitol, Peeta, Haymitch, and I get permission to hitch a ride back to Thirteen with a squad of soldiers. As we step aboard the hovercraft, someone calls my name.

"Katniss!"

A grin spreads across my face in recognition of the voice. "Gale!" I run up and throw my arms around him. "You made it."

"I promised I would, didn't I?" he reminds me.

Finnick has the seat next to him. They both look a little worse for wear—Finnick's arm is in a sling—but they're otherwise okay. The three of us each take a seat across from them. Peeta and Gale greet one another with civil nods.

"What happened to you?" Peeta asks Finnick.

"Broken wrist," Finnick replies. "Fell off a ladder during a propo."

"Well, better your wrist than your pretty face," I tease.

Gale laughs. "Yeah, then he would have really been in trouble."

"Might never have recovered," Haymitch says with a smirk.

The rest of them spend the trip talking about the events of the past week. Coin's assassination. Paylor as president. Prim's presumed death. Snow's upcoming trial. It's all stuff I'd rather not think about. I lay my head on Peeta's shoulder and tune them out.

When we reach our destination, a crowd is gathered to meet their loved ones. As I descend the steps of the hovercraft, I can see Johanna push her way to the front to welcome Gale with a passionate kiss. I can't help but feel anything but happiness for them both. Their courtship is still in the early stages, but I hope that it blooms into something more. Because if it does, it will mean that he's moved on, and she'll have family again.

As I continue onward, I catch a glimpse of Finnick kneeling before Annie, and...talking to her abdomen? Does that mean what I think it means?

With no family present to greet us—Prim and my mother will be working in the Capitol for a few more weeks—Peeta and I quietly slip through the crowd to our own compartment.

* * *

We meet everybody in the Dining Hall for dinner at half past six, and are pleasantly surprised to find they are actually serving a decent meal—baked chicken on wild rice. Of course, this is District Thirteen, so we still only get allotted portions. Grrr!

We eat, we talk, we laugh. Glad to be together again. Glad the war is no longer looming over us.

Hazelle and the children, along with hundreds of others from District Twelve, are already preparing to return home. Gale, however, won't be going. He was offered a military job in District Two that he would be a fool to turn down. Johanna will be joining him. There is nothing left for her in Seven.

Because of the hospital, Peeta and I stay in District Thirteen until the baby is born. And in the wee hours one April morning, our daughter finally arrives, with the bluest eyes, and the longest eyelashes I've ever seen.

"What are you going to name her?" Prim asks eagerly.

"Dandelion," Peeta and I say in unison. We discussed it months ago.

A week later, it's our turn to return home. My mother comes with us, but Prim will be staying in Thirteen for a few more years to train as a doctor. She hopes to open up a clinic in Twelve one day and work alongside my mother. In the meantime, we keep in touch by mail. Often, when she writes us, she encloses a letter to Rory...and he always answers back.

Peeta immediately sets to work on the new bakery, and it isn't long before we're ready to move in. On the first night, after I put little Dandelion to bed, I go to the living room to find Peeta waiting for me in front of the fireplace with a fresh loaf of bread. I take a seat beside him.

He takes the matches and sets the firewood ablaze. As the flame grows, orange and yellow light dances across his face, illuminating his usually invisible eyelashes. Using a long set of tongs, he carefully places the bread over the heat until it is lightly toasted. He breaks it in half, and hands part of it to me.

I remember the resentment I felt over the extravagant ceremony the Capitol threw for us. I remember the envy I felt at Finnick and Annie's wedding because they were able to keep to some of their district's traditions. But as I take that first bite of bread those feelings wash away. Because Peeta and I are now celebrating the most important of District Twelve's marriage rituals. With that first bite, Peeta and I are truly husband and wife.

Peeta gathers me in his arms, and as the flames in the fireplace slowly become embers, he sets a fire within me.

* * *

**_Not quite done yet! Epilogue coming up!_**


	27. Epilogue, Part I

_**This Epilogue is too long. I've decided to split it up.**_

_**And I'm warning you, it's nauseatingly fluffy.**_

"Mamma! Mamma!"

I'm startled awake by Cress' chipper little voice. "Mamma! Can we go check my snare now?" In the soft, pre-dawn light, I can see he's already dressed for the woods.

"Daddy!" I can hear Dandelion's hands slapping Peeta's chest. "Daddy, it's time to go make Primmy's cake."

Well, it _is_ almost time to get up. Almost. But the kids have always had a special knack of waking us before we're ready. We haven't slept late in six years. Unless you count seven o'clock late, which I don't.

"Okay kids, just..." I let out a loud, audible yawn. "Give us a few minutes."

"You promised!" they both say in unison. I don't have to open my eyes to know Cress is giving me his signature scowl—my scowl. I giggle internally. Except for my gray eyes, he's the spitting image of Peeta. But by his facial expressions, you can tell he's definitely my son.

"Tell you what." Peeta's voice is heavy with sleep. "Cress, you go lay out Mom's hunting gear. Dandy, you go put on some tea. Then come back and get us."

"Okay!" the brother and sister shout enthusiastically. And then they're gone.

I snuggle into the warm circle of Peeta's arms. "You just bought us five more minutes."

"Yeah," he says. "Aren't I brilliant?"

* * *

I sit at the table sipping tea, watching as Dandy carefully measures flour under Peeta's watchful eye. I can't help but smile as she mixes the batter, displaying that same, intense look Peeta has when he concentrates hard. She takes baking very seriously. She takes everything seriously. Gee, _I wonder where she gets that,_ I think.

Across from me, Cress finishes his last bite of breakfast. I had to make him eat. Yesterday he set his first snare, and is anxious to see if it caught anything.

He wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve. "Okay, I'm ready!" Before I can blink, he has his jacket and his game bag. "Bye, Daddy!" he yells as he runs out the door.

"Bye, Cress!" Peeta waves at the cloud of dust kicked up by our son.

I kiss Dandy on the forehead. "I love you," I say. "Have fun with Daddy." I stand up and leave a peck on Peeta's cheek. "Love you."

Peeta grabs my arm as I walk away. "Get back here." He pulls me in and kisses me passionately on the mouth. Oh, the man still knows how to set me on fire!

"You guys kiss too much," Dandy grumbles as she spoons the batter into the cake pans.

Peeta eyes me suggestively. "How about leaving the kids with your mother tonight?" he whispers.

I grin sheepishly. "Okay."

After one more kiss, I hurry out the door. When I finally catch up to Cress, he's at the edge of the square. It's a crisp April morning, and the air is ripe with the smell of smoke of nearby chimneys. A thin layer of frost blankets the ground. The sun is just beginning to peek over the mountains. In the square, several stores are unlocking their doors.

"Katniss!" yells a familiar voice.

I turn in the direction of the sound to see Rory Hawthorne running up behind us. A long rectangular package is tucked under his arm.

"Rory. You're up early."

"I've been waiting for the mercantile to open," he says. "The finishing touch arrived last night." He incidates the box he's carrying.

"What is it?" I ask.

He carefully opens the package and hands me the contents. It's a plaque made of cherry wood. Inscribed on it, in gold plated letters, are the words Dr. Primrose Everdeen. I don't know how much it cost him, but it certainly wasn't cheap.

"Wow, Rory," I say in slight awe. "If Prim weren't already in love with you, this would definitely win her over."

And I'm not just talking about the nameplate. Several months back, when Prim announced she'd be coming home for good, Rory immediately headed up a project to build a new clinic. It wasn't hard to persuade the people to pitch in and help. They have always been fond of Prim.

And besides, it's something that will benefit everybody. Because for the last six years, my mother has been the closest thing we've had to a doctor. And she's good, but there are things that are beyond even her skill. There have been several instances in which she's had to call in a hovercraft to transport a patient to Thirteen. But that won't happen as often now, because the clinic we've built will be more than sufficient to meet the medical needs of the district.

The best part is Prim doesn't know about it. She's expecting to do most of her doctoring through house calls, or out of mom's apothecary shop. I can't wait to see her face when we unveil her new workplace.

"What time are you expecting her?" he asks.

"Around noon," I reply. "Are you coming to meet her?"

"Of course I am."

Cress impatiently tugs at my arm.

"All right," I say. "I'll see you then."

Cress and I continue on our way.

"Mamma, when can I have a bow like you?" he asks.

"You're too little right now," I say, "but I'll make you your very own someday."

"That's a long time," he grumbles.

Finally, we enter the trees. I place a finger in front of my lips and whisper. "Remember, quiet feet. You don't want to scare away the game."

"Oh." He obediently lightens his steps so that they almost can't be heard. Almost. It's going to take some practice before he masters my velvet tread. Since Cress started accompanying me on hunts, most of the meat I've brought home has been trapped, rather than shot, but it's the only way he'll learn.

This is just one way in which he differs from his sister. Dandy may look like a miniature version of me, but she is definitely not a hunter. She would much rather help Peeta at the bakery, or more often, my mother at the apothecary shop. She's the same age Prim was when her interest in healing began to emerge, and the two of them have always had a rapport with one another. My mother says healers are born, not made.

It's funny how the kids turned out to be polar opposites. While it seems Peeta and I both passed on our best qualities, neither of them really share any of them. For instance, Cress inherited Peeta's talent with a paintbrush, as well as my father's gift of song, while Dandy has Peeta's way with words.

We begin the hour-long trek down the snare line. At the end of it, we have three rabbits and two turkeys. Not a bad haul.

"Mamma, look!" Cress jumps up and down with excitement at the sight of his trap. "I got a squirrel!"

"Nice job!" I say. I remove the remains from the trap, and drop it in Cress' game bag. "This can be our dinner tonight."

* * *

We stand in the meadow, Rory, Dandy and me, watching as the hovercraft lowers Prim onto the grass. As soon as she's free of the electric current, the three of us descend upon her.

"I've missed you," she says, hugging us one by one. "Especially you." She throws her arms around Rory, and their lips meet.

"What do you mean, _especially him_?" I say in mock resentment.

"Oh, Katniss, stop it," she shoots back playfully.

"Did you bring me a present, Primmy?" Dandy flashes Prim a big, toothy smile.

"Well, let's see." Prim rummages through her medical bag—the sole piece of luggage she brought with her. "Oh, look. I just happen to have an extra stethoscope right here."

"Wow!" Dandy eagerly takes the instrument. "Thanks, Primmy!" She begins listening to her own heart.

We all walk back to town, Prim telling us how grueling the weeks leading up to graduation have been for her. To be honest, I find her account a little hard to follow without understanding the steps involved in becoming a doctor, but one thing's for certain: District Thirteen hasn't changed since I lived there. Things are just as rigid and stingy as ever. I wonder how Prim managed to get her hands on an extra stethoscope. No one in Thirteen ever gets their hands on an extra anything.

"Wait." Prim suddenly realizes we've veered off the main road. "Where are we going? Mom's shop is in the square."

"We just need to make a little pit stop," says Rory. "And close your eyes."

A puzzled look crosses Prim's face. "My eyes?"

"Yes, your eyes." I go up behind her and cover them with my hands. Rory and Dandy take her by the arms and lead her onward.

After about a hundred feet, we turn another corner, walk a little further, and finally stop. We strategically position her so that she's about-face with the new building. I uncover her eyes.

She is speechless as she takes in the sight before her. A building labeled Medical Clinic. Rory's nameplate on the front door.

"Oh, my." Her hand flies up over her mouth as tears begin to drip from her eyes.

"Surprise!" booms the collective roar of a large crowd from behind.

* * *

_**More to come!**_

**_Oh, and show of hands, please. How many of you moms (or dads?) out there can relate to that first section?_**


	28. Epilogue, Part II

_**Here's the conclusion. Sorry it took so long. I kind of had a hard time with it.**_

_**This question came up in a review, so I think I should explain. Yes, Prim is a nineteen-year-old doctor. I figured that since, in Mockingjay, she was taking basic medic courses and helping out at the hospital at the age of thirteen, and since she was good enough to be sent out on the front lines, then she can conceivably have completed her training at such a young age.**_

* * *

Prim turns and is surprised by the throng staring back at her. At the forefront stand my mother, Haymitch, and the Hawthornes. The street is occupied by tables of food under a banner that reads, "Welcome Home Dr. Everdeen."

"Oh!" She's sobbing in earnest now. She quickly wipes her tears as she addresses the crowd. "I don't know what to say, except...thank you."

The crowd breaks out into another round of applause and cheers. Ever since the bombing, the people have been finding any excuse to celebrate, and Prim's homecoming was no exception.

"Now everybody enjoy the food!" I hear a voice bellow.

Rory reaches into his pocket and fishes out a key. He drops it onto Prim's open palm.

She eyes him suspiciously. "This was your idea, wasn't it?" She knows him well.

"Don't look at me," he says. "Your sister funded the project."

"And Haymitch," I add. Gotta give credit where it's due, after all.

"Hey now." Haymitch saunters over to us. "Don't bring me into this." He raises his flask to Prim. "Congratulations, little sweetheart."

Dandy yanks Prim's arm, blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. "Come see the cake I made!" She pulls her toward the tables.

The next several hours are devoted to eating, talking, laughing, dancing. As the sun moves westward and gives way to twilight, the crowd gradually begins to clear. Even the guest of honor seems to have disappeared.

I find Dandy and my mother sitting on the steps of the clinic. Dandy is listening to my mother's heart with her new stethoscope.

"Have you seen Prim?" I ask.

My mother shakes her head, but Dandy speaks up. "She went with Rory."

Oh. Well, it's been a while since they've seen each other. I guess they wanted some time alone. I busy myself with the cleanup.

Later that evening, Mom, Hazelle, and I are sitting in the kitchen at the bakery when the couple bursts through the door, looking positively radiant.

"We're gonna get married!"

* * *

"He took me to his house in the Seam," Prim tells me, after everyone else leaves. "The new one, I mean. Not Hazelle's."

"What new one?" I ask, puzzled.

"The new house." She says this as though it should be common knowledge. "The one he built for us." She takes in the baffled expression on my face. "You didn't know?"

I shake my head. "He never said anything to me. Did you know about it?"

"Nope, it was a complete surprise. I bet Hazelle knew, though. Nothing ever gets past her."

"Wait a minute." Now that I think about it, I _have_ seen Rory working on a certain house for the past several months. "Is it the one over by the creek? After you turn off the main road?"

Prim nods. "Yeah, the one with the primrose bushes in front."

Huh. You'd think the bushes would have been a dead giveaway, but I'd assumed Rory was just lending a hand to someone else. After all, houses are going up all the time, especially in the Seam where land is the cheapest, and he's been so busy with the clinic, how could I have guessed he had another project up his sleeve?

"He must have been planning on asking you for a while."

Prim's smile becomes even wider. "I guess so."

Wow. Between work, the house, and the clinic, when has he had time to sleep?

"Okay, so he took you to the new house..." I say, getting us back on track.

"He gave me a tour," Prim continues, "and it's very quaint." A wistful expression crosses her face. "It reminds me of the one we grew up in. He started talking about when he first knew he loved me."

I already know this story. Prim and Rory, being in the same year in school, knew each other long before Gale and I ever met, but they didn't become friends until we began hunting together. But it was the night the district was bombed, when Prim and Rory were thirteen, that his feelings for her began to deepen. At first he was just grateful she was safe. But then during the next three days, while the survivors were waiting to be rescued by Thirteen, he watched her work tirelessly on the injured and began to see her differently.

"And he promised to love me forever, and got down on one knee." Prim stares off into the distance with a dreamy expression on her face. "The wedding will have to wait a few weeks. Whenever Gale and Johanna can get here."

"And, um..." I raise an eyebrow. "are you still planning on staying with mom until then, or have you made new sleeping arrangements?"

"Katniss!"

I laugh out loud as the shade of Prim's face blushes beet red.

* * *

The next three weeks pass quickly. In the midst of the wedding planning, Prim does see a fair number of patients. Nothing too serious. An ear infection, a persistent cough. She accepts what people can afford to pay, even if that means nothing at all. It's just another thing that makes Prim such a wonderful doctor.

When Prim shows me the house, I am surprised to find that it not only has three bedrooms—fairly large for a house in the Seam—but hot running water and a phone as well. Even now, these conveniences are still very expensive. Rory works in the medicine factory, where the pay isn't terrible—if he's careful, he'll be able to support himself and Prim without having to depend on her unsteady income—but it certainly doesn't make you rich. Most people barely scrape by. Still, things are better than before the war, when people risked their lives in the mines twelve-hours a day and still went to bed hungry. Now there are laws in place that enforce safety regulations, dictate a maximum number of hours they're are allowed to work, and set a minimum wage employers are allowed to pay.

I know Gale sends money to Hazelle, and I suspect he had a hand in financing the construction of Rory's house. He gets paid quite handsomely in District Two, and being married to Johanna gives him the added perk of living in the Victor's Village free of charge.

Finally, the big day arrives, warm and cloudless—perfect for a wedding. Dandy and I go to my mother's apothecary shop to help Prim get ready. Although actually, in that department, I'm really no help at all.

Her dress is a simple, sleeveless number made of white cotton that reaches to her calves. Prim has always been a beauty, but as my mother braids her hair, I stand amazed at the young woman she's become. Add to that her unending compassion and her willingness to help others unconditionally, and it's no wonder Rory fell so hard. She's absolutely perfect.

Dandy adds the finishing touch to Prim's attire—a crown of wildflowers that she herself made.

"Thank you, Dandy," Prim says. "It's beautiful."

Dandy smiles, pleased with her work.

We step outside and spot Rory waiting across the square, in front of the Justice Building. He's wearing a white button-down shirt and simple, black pants. At the sight of Prim, he runs toward us.

"I'll see you guys at the house," Prim says. She takes off running, meeting him halfway. He sweeps her up into his arms and their lips meet.

The rest of us stop by the bakery to fetch Peeta and Cress before heading to the Seam. When we arrive at Rory's house, Johanna greets us at the door.

"What's up, Mockingjay?" She punches me in the shoulder, hard.

I return the gesture. "Greetings, Brainless."

"The cousins are here!" she bellows through the house. We all make our way to the kitchen to find Gale and Vick setting extra chairs, probably from Hazelle's house, around the table. Peeta and my mother help Hazelle and Posey prepare dinner.

"When do we get to cut the cake?" Cress asks, eying it longingly.

"When Prim and Rory get here," I tell him. "Why don't you go watch for them?"

"Okay!" He darts out of the house.

"Hey, Catnip." Gale comes over and embraces me.

"How's my favorite cousin?" I return.

This is the first I've seen of Gale since he arrived yesterday, and we have a lot of catching up to do. He tells me of how District Two is treating him. His job is keeping him busy, and there's talk of a promotion.

Like any proud mother, I brag about the kids. "You'd be impressed with Cress. Five years old and already trapping dinner."

"It's not surprising," he replies. "He's just like you."

"So..." I lower my voice a bit. "When are you guys gonna have one?"

Gale's expression becomes a little crestfallen. "I don't know. Johanna doesn't really want to. Says the Games have poisoned her against it."

I can actually empathize with Johanna on this one. I love Dandelion and Cress to death, but if they hadn't shown up unexpectedly, Peeta would probably be spending the duration of my child-bearing years trying to convince me to have children. I wonder, would I ever change my mind, or would he die childless and broken-hearted?

My eyes fall on Johanna as she washes her hands at the sink. "Well, she was never going to get over her fear of water either, was she?" I point out.

"Yeah." Gale smiles slightly. "And now not a day goes by that she doesn't do laps around the pool."

"Just be patient with her," I say. "One day she'll be teaching your daughter how to wield an ax like a pro."

It isn't long before Cress pokes his head in the door. "They're coming!"

We all gather outside and sure enough, the newlyweds can be seen in the distance, walking hand in hand. Hard to believe my little duck is now a married woman.

The kids start off the wedding song, and we all join in. As the newlyweds step across the threshold, I find myself thinking of the day I took Prim's place in the Games so many years ago. At the time, all I thought about was keeping her alive. But when I put my own future on the line so that she could have one, I never imagined it would be as bright as it is. She has grown up to become a doctor. She was able to fall in love, to marry, to plan a family without the threat of the Games looming over her.

I didn't think twice about volunteering for her that day, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

* * *

_**And there you have it.**_

_**1. The Capitol wasn't able to completely hijack Peeta.**_

_**2. He and Katniss had two kids.**_

_**3. Gale lived happily ever after with Johanna.**_

_**4. Finnick lived.**_

_**5. Prim not only lived, but became a doctor, opened a clinic, and married Rory.**_

_**6. Mrs. Everdeen stayed in District Twelve.**_

_**All because Katniss and Peeta were forced to get married.**_

_**LOL! I didn't originally set out to completely rewrite Mockingjay. But as I progressed, I decided I didn't want to settle for bittersweet. Thank you so much to all my readers! It means so much that you enjoyed my story!**_


End file.
